Chapter Text
One moment, he had been flying. Wind in his blond hair, expertly turning corners as he spammed rockets, one after the other. Over, under and through all kinds of obstacles, aiming for the hoops he had placed here and there. The course was familiar, no doubt he could fly it blind at this point. To the building, hard left, through the first tree, the second one, up, down under the railway, into the valley…
The next moment, he found himself having to swerve to dodge out of the way of bamboo that hadn’t been there the last time he came here. So far for beating his lap time. Grian looked over his shoulder briefly.
“Who put that there?” he muttered to himself, making a mental note to chop it down after he had finished his lap. Then he fired off another salvo of rockets to gain speed, headed for the next hoop. The bamboo was still fresh on his mind as he looked forwards again, just as he was in front of the hoop. It looked… off. Not the same as he had built it.
By the time he figured out what was wrong with it, he was already tangled up in the net of fine, near invisible threads. Like a spiders web. A burst of panic went through him initially. Then he started chuckling. This had to be a prank, probably a rebuttal for he many times he had pranked others by filling their bases with chickens. And it was no secret that he flew this course a few times every morning like clockwork.
Grian started struggling against the netting, trying to free himself before some other Hermit could see him like this. The threads didn’t budge, however, and he only managed to tangle himself up more. After a minute of trying and ending up half upside down, he just sighed and tried to relax a little, moving as little as possible to not get tangled up more. No doubt someone would come to laugh at him before helping him get down.
“Well, you got me! Can you free me now?” he shouted, looking around for signs of one of his friends.
No one answered. No one moved.
“Guys? Anyone?”
Again, the only response was the gentle lapping of the water below him, and the rustling of that bamboo. Grian briefly frowned, before wiggling his communicator out of his pocket. The angle to do so was quite uncomfortable, but there was not much else he could do. It took him a bit as well, but that was fine too. Apparently he had the time as long as he was hanging around here. Grian chuckled at his own joke, before lifting the communicator into his field of vision and started typing.
<Grian> Could whoever put a net in the middle of the elytra course please come and untangle me?
<xisumavoid> ?
<MumboJumbo> lol
<Grian> sigh
<Grian> I think it’s a prank, but I can’t get out
<xisumavoid> Where are you?
<Grian> the valley between the hrn line and concorp
<xisumavoid> On my way, give me a few minutes.
He sighed, then dimmed the screen. Well then. If only he hadn’t put his sword and everything in his enderchest before starting the course. Then again, it was always a pain to have to gather everything in the unlikely case that he crashed.
And so he waited, looking around for Xisuma to arrive as his blood slowly flowed to his head. It wasn’t a nice feeling, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.
The sudden sound of a twig snapping made his head turn.
“X, is that you?” he called out, unable to spot the source of the noise. This time, though, there was a response to his call. To be precise, the sound of something whistling through the air before piercing the skin of his back. Grian yelped, then renewed his efforts to get out.
“Guys, that hurt! This isn’t funny anymore!”
As he struggled, he felt his limbs slowly growing more and more heavy. His thoughts and words slurred together, his sight becoming a blur. A panic started building as the sounds around him sounded more and more like they had to come through water to reach him. This was wrong, this was so very, very wrong.
With the bit of mind that was still listening to him, he commanded his fingers to type once more, even though he could barely discern the different buttons.
<Grian> gelp
<Grian> teap
<Grian> drigfedd
<FalseSymmetry> Dude, are you okay?
<Grian> boooo
By then, the letters on the screen became too difficult to read, as black started closing in the edges of his vision. Grian looked around him, becoming vaguely aware of the person closing in via the support of the hoop. Edges blending together, the blur of a person mostly being green. Though this was probably not the best time to pass out, his eyelids were starting to be too heavy to keep open much longer, and the black was taking over.
“X…? Imma…. sleep...” he murmured.
Then his communicator slipped out of his fingers, landing in the water below with a splash. The last thing Grian heard before consciousness left him completely was a laugh.
A laugh that didn’t sound like Xisuma at all.
“Grian? Are you here?” The admin flew over the stretch of course that went through the valley, looking for a red sweater, a hint of purple wing, some blond hair, anything that looked like Grian. Had someone else found him already? So far, he had had no luck finding the newest Hermit. With a frown of concern behind his visor, Xisuma landed near one of the hoops and took out his communicator, that had buzzed a few times as he was flying. Maybe there had been updates?
As he turned on the screen, however, there was only some barely readable yet concerning messages from Grian, and False that tried getting clarity with no success.
<FalseSymmetry> Grian?
<FalseSymmetry> Are you still there dude?
<FalseSymmetry> X, please tell me you got him!
“This isn’t good...” Once again, Xisuma frowned. If this was all some elaborate prank, it wasn’t funny, but his gut feeling said something different. Something else was at play here.
<xisumavoid> He isn’t here.
<xisumavoid> I flew over the whole stretch three times, but no Grian.
<FalseSymmetry> Are you sure?
A sound nearby made Xisuma look up from his communicator. It had sounded trice, a soft gurgling from the water. He couldn’t quite place it, though.
<xisumavoid> Yes
Again, that gurgle sounded. Coincidence? It couldn’t be. He walked a little bit closer to the water, and it gurgled again, at the same time that his communicator buzzed.
<FalseSymmetry> I’m gonna head over and help search.
<xisumavoid> Wait a moment, can you do something for me?
<xisumavoid> Send some messages, a few seconds between each.
<xisumavoid> I’ll explain later.
<FalseSymmetry> Uh… Sure?
Then he put away the little screen again, listening for the gurgles and walking closer to it every time. Six buzzes later, he stood in the water, looking down on another communicator that was valiantly doing its job, even though it was completely submerged. Xisuma frowned harder, worry taking root. No Hermit would part with their communicator so easily. Reaching into the water, he picked it up, then flipped it over to look for the engraving all of them had. The device bore the name of the missing Hermit, confirming his gut feeling.
<xisumavoid> I found his communicator. This may be more serious than we thought.
Chapter Text
When he woke up, he found himself in a room that was pitch black but at the same time surprisingly bright. He groggily blinked a few times, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. His memory was a blur, the last thing he clearly remembered hitting something mid-flight.
He didn’t recognise the room at all, and the black of its walls, floor and ceiling was messing with his head. How far away were they? Were there even walls, or was he just floating in the middle of the Void? It most certainly felt like he was on top of something tangible, it had to be, but besides that… Well. There wasn’t much to go with. Was he dead? Shouldn’t he just respawn, then?
Grian sat up accompanied by a clanking sound. Metal? He rubbed his sore arms, then stretched his wings. As they unfurled, they brushed past something cold, and Grian frowned. What was that? That’s when he felt it. The ever present slight pressure of his turtleneck had been replaced by something else. Something that pressed against his throat a bit more securely, a bit tighter. He swallowed and reached out to feel it, finding a thick metal band locked in place around his neck. Grian swallowed. This was wrong. He looked around, finding a length of chain that connected the metal collar to the square of dark slabs he was laying on. Probably not dead, then.
“What…? Where… Where am I?” he murmured. Wherever this was, he wanted out. For a moment, Grian clenched his eyes shut, then reopened them with the hope to wake up from what just had to be a nightmare of sorts. He was still in the void room though. Was it a dream? He went to pinch himself, and came to the wincing conclusion that he was very much awake. Awake, and a prisoner of sorts.
But why? Grian tried to think back to what had happened, but everything after hitting whatever he had hit was a blur of colours and sounds and feelings and smells and thoughts. It gave him a headache, and he shook his head to get rid of the mash of memories for now. He hoped they would solidify somewhere soon.
Maybe someone else could give him some answers, though. He started digging for his communicator, only to find nothing but air there. That was weird. Had hit fallen out of his pockets as he was flying? He couldn’t remember putting it in his enderchest, but he might have accidentally done so when preparing for the elytra course. And why would he? The thing was the only item that actually stuck with him when he died.
It was also the only thing he could use to contact his friends if they were in another place. It would have been lovely to have that right now. Something else, then, he had to have something else with him. With a short gesture, he opened up his inventory.
“Wait, what?!”
His rockets were nowhere to be found, and his food was gone as well. It was empty. Just completely empty. The question that needed asking was how someone had managed that. As far as Grian knew, there was no way to take things from someone else’s inventory, just like with an enderchest. Unless of course someone had killed him, and he just respawned here.
“Wherever here is...” he whispered to himself. “Okay, Grian, let’s get out of here. You got this.” The builder went to sit on his knees, bending over and reaching down to figure out where the floor was, if it was even within reach. This room did weird tricks with his mind, but given the way that chain was laying, it couldn’t be too far. He found the cool and smooth material about half a block down, and a little bit of patting around revealed no seams or unevenness anywhere. He swore he knew this from somewhere, but where had he see this before? Grian frowned, raking his mind, before shaking his head. Nope, he couldn’t remember. At the very least he now knew there was a floor.
Now the trick was to be methodical about this, and try and figure out if and where the walls and ceilings existed. Methodical, despite his natural urge to just jump up and try whatever. Methodical, unlike the chaos that was his mind.
And so he found himself stepping off the slabs, bare feet on the floor. A shiver went up his spine as he did so, a combination of the coolness under his feet and the unsettling feeling of standing on nothing. First things first. How far could he move before the chain disagreed with him? Counting his steps, he walked forwards, perpendicular to the edge of the slabs.
One, two, three. Four…? No, not four. Three and a half. Maybe.
With a sigh he went to sit down. Not even four meters of freedom. Grian hated it already. He was used to just be able to jump and run and fly wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Maybe, just maybe, he could break the chain if he moved fast enough? Or he could pull out the point where it was connected if he flew upwards? Both ideas would probably hurt him though, if nothing else. He unconsciously swallowed, the metal band pressing uncomfortably against his Adams apple when it moved. He also very much realised that he couldn’t just keep sitting here and wait for someone to come get him, be it friend or foe. Well, he could, but that would only drive him mad and possibly into a panic. Something else, then.
“Okay. New plan. Find the walls and ceiling. They have to be somewhere.” Grian very much hoped so at the very least. If he could figure out the dimensions of his cell – cause that was what it was – he had information. And with information he could do something. Escape, hopefully. If only that damned chain wasn’t there, that would make his life a whole lot easier. For now he’d just have to bear with it.
Standing up once more, he went to walk clockwise in a circle as far away from the slabs as he could, his left wing outstretched to hopefully graze against the wall at some point. His eyes went from the tip of his wing to the slabs, trying to keep track of how far he had already gone. The corners of the plateau were the only reference point he had, everything else just being the same dark nothingness.
One corner passed, and he hadn’t felt a wall. The second came, and still his wing wasn’t touching anything. The third and fourth corner brought him the same experience. So, he knew the room was at least ten by ten, accounting for his wingspan. Then Grian climbed back on the slabs, standing over the point where the chain went into the dark material. He bent his knees slightly, as though he was going to jump, and then took off into the air.
For a glorious tenth of a second, he could ignore his situation as his wings spread out and powerfully beat once, lifting him off the ground and into the air. Then the chain pulled taut, the collar stopping further movement upwards with a painful yank. Again, no ceiling to be felt. Grian let himself fall down a little, before stubbornly trying again, this time using inertia to move his legs higher than his face the moment the chain pulled him back.
Still nothing there. He fell back to the floor coughing and wincing, not sure what to do next. Laying on his back, he stared up to the place where the ceiling may or may not have been. He could almost pretend it was just a dark, moonless, starless night like this. Almost. His hand moved to his throat, feeling the heavy collar. No way he was going to get that off without tools and somebody to help him.
A wave of sadness went over him. Did the others know he was gone? Would they be able to find him, or…? How long would he be stuck here?
Then helplessness began settling in. It was hard to fight in his situation, having nothing and knowing nothing. He couldn’t free himself from this, he couldn’t even remember how he got here in the first place.
Grian only realised he was softly crying as the tears started dripping down his face.
Three pairs of eyes looked at the occasionally buzzing communicator in Xisuma’s hand. False’s eyes were filled with worry and anger, one hand lingering near her sword, ready for action. Xisuma was staring daggers at the thing, as though that would make it tell him where Grian was, and what happened. Mumbo looked anxious, his hands constantly twiddling with the buttons of his jacket.
“… And you found it in the water, right? Was there anything else there?” His voice was as twitchy as his hands were. Expectant, hoping for some good news. The admin looked at him when he asked his questions, then averted his eyes before shaking his head.
“Nothing.”
“Well… There has to be a lead somewhere. Doesn’t it, False?” Mumbo now turned towards her, eyes begging. Her hand wrapped around the pommel of her sword, knuckles whitening.
“We’ll find whoever did this. And we’ll show them they made a grave mistake.” Her voice was chilly, and remained remarkably flat despite the thinly veiled threat she had just made. To that, the redstoner nodded.
“Let’s search around, then.”
And to work, they went.
Five hours later, they had combed through the entire valley. Yet, barely anything out of the ordinary could be found, and even that was stretching the definition of the word. The hoop under which they had found Grian’s communicator had some strands of what seemed to be spider silk hanging from it, as though someone had flown through a web there. The chance that that was the net that Grian had talked about was fairly small. While cobwebs were a nuisance, they were easy enough to remove or break through.
They hadn’t found the net either, nor evidence of there ever having been one. No footsteps of a possible culprit, so they had either flown or waded through the water. And that was all they knew.
Eventually, they became too frustrated by it all to still search in any efficient way. It was as though they were hunting a ghost. False was the first to leave, gone to hit the library in search for prior cases like this. Next went Xisuma, muttering something about logs, leaving Mumbo alone with his thoughts.
The redstoner just stared into the distance for a bit, eyes trained on the hoop. Ideas flew through his mind, theories about what could have happened, one more outrageous than the other. None of them were likely or complete enough to pursue, though.
“Where are you, Grian?” he whispered to the wind. “Are you okay? Are you safe?”
The wind didn’t answer, and the gentle breeze only made the spider silk dance.
Notes:
Thank you all for the support so far! It's wonderful reading your comments ^.^
Chapter Text
He wasn’t too sure why he had flown to the towering cylinder in the middle of the future district, instead of his own base.
“What if he’s there? It’s on my route anyway, might as well check….”
And so he landed on one of the three entryways, deciding to walk the last bit instead of just flying in. It seemed… Nicer, that way. Or maybe he was just trying to evade the possibility that Grian wasn’t in his base either for a little while longer.
The entryway was not infinite, though, so within seconds he was standing in the entrance. Underneath him, the base looked as it always did. A mess of shulker boxes was in one of the corners in a vomit of colours, the farms were occasionally moving and harvesting, and a beacon beam going up through the middle. The bed looked slept on, but was empty, and the sounds of both chickens and parrots were audible from somewhere in the building. Of course they were. It was Grians base. How could there not be chickens.
Mumbo glid down, elytra outstretched, and landed near the center of the circle. Then he looked around, hoping to spot a sign of life that matched his friend.
Nothing.
“Grian? Are you here?” he called out, hoping for an answer. “Come on man, answer!” he whispered. And he waited. “Maybe he just didn’t hear? He could be upstairs, or in his infinity room?” The muttering was mostly to make himself less anxious, hoping to calm himself if he believed hard enough that his friend just couldn’t hear him because he was in another part of his base.
Mumbo speedwalked over to the entrance to the infinity room and dropped through. It may not have been the best idea, though. The room was already weird and unsettling enough when he was in there with Grian, but like this, with just him and the empty chairs in the seemingly infinite expanse of white… It just felt lonely. There was barely any sound either, muffled through layers upon layers of stone.
He became very aware of his own breathing, his own heartbeat. Both were faster than he might have wanted, shallower than he might have hoped. Mumbo swallowed, and he could hear it clearly.
This feels wrong.
Suddenly, he had the urge to get out of there. Out of the weird room, back into the base. It might be empty, but it was less lonely than this. The redstoner walked in the direction of where he knew the exit was, hand outstretched to feel the wall before he would walk into it.
Before long, the blinding white was replaced by the glow of sea lanterns, and he found himself hurrying into the water elevator. The cool water washed over him, and for a few blissful seconds he could forget things, floating gently upwards.
Then he shot through the surface, and was faced with the empty base once more. Only now he noticed the lectern in the middle, the beacon beam passing around it. Was that always there? Mumbo squinted and came closer, questioning his memory. Something glistered in the light of the beacon beam, criss-crossing between the lectern and the floor. Cobwebs? Had the lectern been there for that long?
Mumbo frowned. Chaotic as he may be, not cleaning something this smack in the middle of his base was nothing for Grian. Weird. His curiosity piqued, prompting him to warily walk over to the lectern. On closer inspection, there was a book laying on it, the leather cover black with a dark green spider on it.
His frown deepened. The book was most certainly not something that fit in here. It didn’t have the right aesthetic. Maybe around Halloween, sure, but right now…? Not really. The builder might be messy, but he kept to a style for the biggest part. If he decided to decorate, it would all work together, and not have a single point of weirdness.
“Did someone else put that there? It has to be, right?” Curiosity and concern were fighting for dominance in his head. Check out the book, or inform others first? It didn’t look like the book was trapped, so that was something. Surely it couldn’t hurt to take a peek and then call them in? Just to check if it was related to Grians disappearance. Nothing else.
He felt almost guilty as he looked around, checking if anyone saw him. As he didn’t see another Hermit, he stepped closer to the lectern, staring at the book. His hands were fiddling with his buttons again. Then he briefly closed his eyes, breathing in and out before reaching out to the book.
The leather was cool under his fingers. Given that nothing exploded or clicked as he touched it, Mumbo opened his eyes again, and ran his hands over the edges of the book, disconnecting the occasional thread of spider silk. Ever careful to not move the back of the book, he opened it to the first page and started reading.
His eyes widened at the first line.
If you tell anyone that you found this book, you will never see your friend again.
High above him, a green figure clinging to the ceiling disappeared into the shadows.
Under the purple roofs of the fantasy district, False was diligently skimming through books. Any one of them that so much as referenced mysterious disappearances was immediately put on the side for more precise reading.
Given the size of the library, this could take a while. Nevertheless, she kept going. It distracted her from her worries enough, while also sating her desire to act. She was being productive like this.
Book after book after book passed through her hands. Page after page after page moved under her fingers. Word after word after word was visited by her eyes. Slowly, ever so slowly, the pile of useful books grew larger. The sunlight filtering through the stained glass window moved at about the same pace.
Eventually, as the torchlight began to take over, she put last book of her current bookcase away. Four down, just three more rows to go. She was over halfway, but it didn’t feel like it. Not with the, what, twenty-six books that needed closer inspection? That was going to take a long time as well. Somewhere deep inside, False was doubting whether this would even help. A lot of the books were on local folklore, salvaged from the various villages around the world. Only a few were actually about history. Then again, myths often had a core of truth in them. She sighed, and walked over to the next bookcase.
“Whatever gods are our there, please, help me find something. Anything. There has to be something in here that can help!” It started out with a mutter, and ended with an angry punch against the bookcase. It rocked slightly. One book fell out, landing spine up and open, pages to the ground. False blinked once. “Huh.”
She bent over and picked up the book. She was by no means superstitious, but this seemed almost like too much of a coincidence to ignore. It was once more a book about legends, worn and weathered by years. Nevertheless, False turned it over.
One of the pages in front of her was an illustration of a human-sized, spider-like creature sitting on a web, encroaching on a young lad that was trying to free himself from the threads. A shiver went over her spine, thinking back to Grians messages just before he disappeared. The other was the start of some myth called “Caught in the Spider’s Web”.
An image flashed before her eyes, of spider silk hanging from a hoop.
“No way...” she whispered. The other pile of books forgotten, she dragged the book to her reading corner. The resemblance was a tad uncanny, so far. Perhaps the resemblance would stay for longer, giving them an idea of where this was going, what they could expect. And more importantly, how they could get Grian back.
“This can’t be right.”
Xisuma stared at his communicator, bright green text declaring it was in admin mode. On his desk laid a stack of neatly organised folders, labelled by month. One lay open, and his eyes sprung between the text on his screen and the text in the folder. Nearly identical, but not completely. Some lines in the digital logs were different from the ones he had printed.
It was not strange that he hadn’t noticed that before. He generally only looked at the digital logs, skimming through them just before bed each day, and put the automatic printout that appeared each sunrise away as a physical backup somewhere. This was the first time he actually read through the printouts, and that was only because the logs didn’t show anything around the time of Grians disappearance. They were too neat, too perfect.
And now he was figuring out that someone had somehow deleted lines from his precious logs. And if these lines were only the ones that were altered after they were printed how many of them were there that were changed before that? Of how many edits was he unaware, simply because they happened before he read them?
The admin took off his helmet, putting it to the side. Overworld air was slightly too thick for him to breathe comfortably, but he could go without his respirator if he wanted to. And right now, he mostly just wanted to scratch his forehead, berating himself for not noticing earlier.
“So far for sleeping, then. Well, X, time for a good old game of spot the difference.” He murmured to himself, before putting on the half-mask Doc had made for him. It made talking a bit more difficult than his helmet did, but it was a lot less hot and way more comfortable. All in all, good for now.
He took up pen, paper and a quill, and started his work, copying the missing lines from the paper logs to a new sheet for overview. It was a death here and there, some glitches, instances of sudden energy waves and more. All things that happened in the night, before sunrise. What worried him most were two messages from about two months ago.
>> Arachne has joined the chat
>> Arachne has been promoted to administrator
Someone that had never typed in chat, who had joined very late in the evening, after Xisuma had gone to bed. Who since then would have been able to read along with whatever they had been saying. Who could be reading along on a communicator right now. Who had admin powers as well, and was able to obscure any trace in the digital logs.
Who possibly hadn’t realised that physical backups of the logs were made. Who possibly wasn’t aware that a trail existed, no matter their diligence in cleaning up after themselves. Who made a mistake, and gave him something to work with.
“Gotcha!”
He was still on the slabs, curled up in as small a ball as he could become. His wings were around him, obscuring his quivering form from sight. His tears had long stopped, not a single one of them remaining in his body. At moments like this he cursed how creative his mind was. It was as good at finding progressively worse worst case scenarios as it was at figuring out interesting builds, and the last few hours – he guessed, there was no sign of time in there – he had mostly spent on trying to stay some kind of positive, to not let himself be dragged along in the negative thoughts.
Truth was, Grian was scared. Very, very scared. Flashes of memories of some sort of net had been coming back, and he didn’t know where to place them. He didn’t know where he was, who was responsible for this, or what they wanted with him. He didn’t know how long he would be there, chained up in a room reminiscent of the void.
Had he been looking around, he could have gotten an answer to one of those questions.
A dark form with too many limbs was observing him, four pairs of red eyes glowing in the light.
Watching.
Waiting.
Notes:
Spiders, spiders all around... A name revealed, but what does it all mean? Stay tuned for more!
I'm also on Tumblr (@castiel-cipher or @fluid-quartz), in case you want to scream at me or whatever :p
Chapter Text
Once upon a time, two brothers lived in a forest. They knew every path, and had befriended the creatures that roamed through the trees and bushes.
One morning, the younger brother went into the forest on his own, as he often did. Deeper and deeper he went, unafraid of his surroundings. He knew that as long as he stuck to the paths, no harm would befall him. And thus, he only walked the avenues of dirt and moss.
Halfway through, however, he came across a large tree that had fallen over, blocking the path forwards. “Surely, I can walk around this without worry,” the boy thought, and he strayed from the path.
Where the path had been easy on him, the brush around it wasn’t. The thorns of brambles tugged at his clothes, and he had to fight through them. The ground was uneven, and he had to be careful not to trip.
Then the younger brother found himself on a bit of shaded path, one he didn’t recognise. More thorns flanked the open space, and dark oaken leafs blocked the sunlight from shining upon him. Curiously, he started heading down the path, wanting to know where it ended.
Within steps, however, he found himself unable to move, the sticky threads of a spiders web all against him. The boy tried getting out, yet every new thread he touched stuck against him, and none of them broke.
Then, from one of the trees, crawled a spider as big as he was.
“Well, well, well, what have we here?”
The silence in the room was broken by a voice he didn’t recognise. It was somewhere between a hiss and a normal voice, and he was unable to discern whether it was a man or a woman, adult or child that was speaking. It had a raspy quality to it as well, as though whomever was speaking wasn’t used to doing so. Some clicky sounds were mixed in as well, giving it all an eerie feeling.
“I... spy… with my little eyes… A little fly, stuck in my web.”
He looked up over his knees, and then immediately scrambled backwards as far as the chain allowed him. The creature in front of him was unlike anything he knew. Too many limbs to be human, too big to be a spider, and yet, it was also both of those. It didn’t help that it’s skin, or carapace, or however he should call it was a dark colour. It blended with the walls, making it difficult to see where one stopped and the other started.
“Who… Who are you? What are you? Why do you keep me here?” Grian stammered, eyes quickly bouncing between all monstrous features the creature had. He was scared, perhaps more so than before. A very tangible danger to him stood in the same room, it was more than reasonable.
The creature made a sound, and the builder realised it was laughing.
“The little fly is loud… And amusing… You sit before Arachne, ruler of this domain. And you, my dear fly, are the key.” As they spoke, the spider creature came closer, and closer, and closer, until they were standing on the slabs, and then even further, until they were towering over him.
“The key to getting what I desire.”
The trouble with administrators was that you needed to be a higher rank than admin in order to change their privileges.
Xisuma found that out the hard way, as he tried to remove Arachne from the system.
At first, he tried the basic tricks. Banning and kicking from the system. Quite soon, he figured out that that didn’t work. The bright red text on screen told him he could not remove the user due to the user being an admin.
His next step was checking if he could somehow revoke privileges. Usually, he could control those for every user in the system, but for this Arachne the option had been greyed out. So far for the graphical interface, then. Luckily, he had some tricks up his sleeve.
Generally, when there is a graphical interface, with nice buttons and a sleek design, there is also a much simpler text interface, a command prompt of sorts. The communicators were no different. It was just a lot more fiddly to use. Each command had to be correct to the letter, otherwise some… unwanted effects could happen. There wasn’t really an overview of all possible commands either, making the whole route a very time-intensive task.
He was very aware of that, but was confident enough about his admin skills to try it anyway. After all, Xisuma also knew that a lot more was possible using the text interface. If there was any way he could get this to work, it would be via this route.
With a steaming cup of tea on his desk, he started trying whatever he could think of. The simple, straight to the point commands resulted in more angry red text about insufficient privileges. The one where he tried to access and change the database claimed the command was not valid, while some of the more far-fetched ideas just gave back errors so long that he had to scroll through them.
As his tea grew cold, Xisuma grew annoyed. At the communicators, at the logs, at himself, at Arachne, at everything that had happened. Multiple times he just wanted to throw the damn thing against a wall until it broke, or just toss it in lava and be done with it.
A knock came from the door, making the admin frown. Who would come by at this hour? It was late, minutes having flown by as he was fiddling in the text interface.
“Come on in!” he called, the sound more than slightly warped by his half-mask.
In came Ren, or, judging by his sandals, perhaps he preferred “Renbob” at that point.
“Hey dude, everything all right here?” the hippie asked, eyeing the stacks of papers. “I was wo-”
“Does it look like everything’s all right?!” Xisuma snapped at him, harsher than he would have done otherwise. He immediately felt guilty about it, though, seeing the other was a bit taken aback by it. The admin let out a sigh, then shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Ren, I didn’t mean that. I’m just a little bit on edge, you know?” His tone was softer now.
“A little bit? You have some interesting definitions, man.” Ren chuckled, then continued. “In any case, I was wondering why there was still a light shining here, man Isn’t it a bit late to still be working? Like, sleep is also important, you know, man?”
To that, Xisuma only nodded tiredly.
“I know, it’s just… I’m trying to figure out what happened, and how it could have happened.” His eyes glid over to the clock on the wall. “I honestly hadn’t realised it was already after midnight. Speaking of which, why are you still up?” He squinted at the hippie.
“It’s full moon, man.” Ren made a gesture as though that explained everything, and Xisuma had enough experience with him to know that he wouldn’t get a better answer if he asked.
“Even so, man, you have to like, let your body rest. Give nature a chance to give you more energy, man, and you’ll be more productive tomorrow morning, man.” Once again, the admin nodded.
“You have a point. Maybe I should just go sleep for a bit.”
“Excellent idea, man. I’ll go back outside then, and leave you to it.” With that, he turned to walk away, and Ren was already at the door when Xisuma realised a thing.
“Oh, by the way, Ren?” The hippie turned on his heals, a questioning look on his face.
“Be cautious of what you send in chat. If you can, talk to people face to face. I’m quite certain someone is eavesdropping.”
Renbob tilted his head, squinting, trying to judge how serious this was. Something in the look on Xisuma’s face told him it would probably be best to not question that. Enough for him to even drop the hippy act for a bit.
“I will, my dude. Do you want me to let others know as well?”
Xisuma shook his head.
“I’ll arrange that. Just… Act normal when typing, okay? We don’t want them to know that we know.”
“Gotcha. Well, goodnight, dude. Get some rest. I’m gonna head off for now.” And with a wave, he turned away once more and disappeared through the door.
The admin was left alone in the room, staring at his now cold cup of tea. That always happened when he was too focussed on something. He sighed, and decided to just pour it away, after which he made sure to clean up all evidence of him having found something weird. Better safe than sorry.
And with that done, he finally went to bed, where he laid awake for a whole while longer.
When he finally slept, he dreamt of spiders.
Chapter Text
But the spider did not eat the boy, nor did it silence him. Instead, it asked: “Do you have any family?”
The boy nodded, and the spider said: “Then call for their help, and see if they come.”
And calling the boy did, until his throat grew dry.
He was sorely tempted to close the book, pretend he never opened it, and call in the other Hermits. Surely no one saw him look into it, or read the first line. That would mean someone was watching him right there and then, and Mumbo hadn’t seen anyone.
To be fair, he didn’t always notice everything. He could be a bit of a spoon at times, he was fully aware of that. The question was whether he was certain enough of his perceptive skills to risk Grian for it.
For a short moment, he squinted.
“No. Nope, not gonna try that. No.” He was shaking his head while he took the book of its lectern. Nothing exploded as he did so, which was something good. Then, after staring at the lectern for a moment, he decided to remove it and the cobwebs as well.
It was probably best to not leave anything here, just to make sure no one could ask about it. Cause if someone asked about it, he would have to pretend he didn’t know.
And everyone knew how that turned out, back in the Civil War.
Not too long later, he found himself digging out a small hidden room under his base, even going so far as to put a quick flush piston door with a torch key in place in order to hide it better. He couldn’t help himself, not really. It was almost the perfect opportunity for creating one. It would of course have been a lot more perfect if one of his closest friends had not just been kidnapped.
Mumbo put the lectern down again, placing the book on it. This time, he was going to read it through.
After hours, the older brother grew worried. His younger brother had not yet returned home, and it was afternoon already. So he put on his walking shoes and went out, into the forest.
He followed the paths he knew his brother was apt to take, all the way to the fallen tree. There, he looked around. Would his brother have strayed from the path? Surely not, for he had been warned many times about the dangers of doing so. He called out his brothers name a few times, but no answer came.
The older brother was about to turn and walk, when he heard rustling in the underbrush. From it emerged a large spider, larger than he was.
“Are you perhaps looking for your brother?” it asked helpfully.
“Yes, have you seen him?” replied the boy, and the spider nodded.
“I caught him in my web, thus he will be my next meal.”
False frowned as she was reading. She couldn’t quite believe this part of the story would reflect on reality. She certainly didn’t hope it would, because that would be bad news for Grian. Or, well… For him it would be less bad news than for any of the villagers, as those didn’t respawn. Still, being eaten alive by some gigantic spider sent chills along her spine.
For the first time since she laid eyes on the myth, she looked outside, to find the sun completely gone, and moonlight filtering through the windows. The soft blue glow was competing for dominance with the warm red aura of the torches, and winning in but a few places. It gave the entire library a more mystical appearance, something that was straight down her lane.
A sigh rolled over her lips. If only she could enjoy being here a bit more right now. Deep in her stomach, worry was still churning, and she felt almost guilty for taking a break. False knew she had to take some, really, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to keep going as long as needed, but this early in her investigation it just felt wrong. Her thumb idly stroked over the edge of the pages as her eyes got drawn back to the illustration. It didn’t take much effort to imagine a different face on that struggling boy.
Perhaps she should just keep reading, and see where the tale would lead.
If you tell anyone that you found this book, you will never see your friend again.
If you do as I say, and follow my instructions, I will release him.
If you question me or my instructions, there will be punishment.
If you fail to satisfy my requests, you will not see your friend again.
If you tell anyone about the nature or existence of my requests, you will not see your friend again.
These are my terms. No harm will befall your friend if you keep to them. Do not try to be smart about it, as I will be watching.
I will arrange for my instructions to get to you soon.
Mumbo scratched his chin as he read through the book, eyes growing wider the further he came. It was a ransom note. A bit of a strange one, really, but it seemed serious enough. And, once again, he would rather not risk it. That seemed like the worst idea at that moment.
He made up his mind to go along with it for now, and hoped that the instructions would not be ridiculously difficult to do on his own. The redstoner wanted to figure out a bit more about how the last two lines would be realised, but then again, maybe he shouldn’t question it, given the third term.
For a little longer, Mumbo looked at the page. It was signed with a neatly drawn spider in mossy green.
“This person must really like spiders,” he mumbled to himself, thinking back to all other spider symbolism he had seen so far. Then he started paging through the rest of the book, that was all seemingly empty. It was quite a waste of paper, really, although he had to admit, it looked quite cool, albeit a bit edgy as well. He still had no clear idea about who had written it, or why, but he was quite sure that he would find out eventually. As long as he could get Grian back, that was the important thing here.
Closing the book, Mumbo decided that he should let it rest for now. He would no doubt get these instructions soon enough, so he should rest when he could. And that moment seemed like as good a moment as any.
He went back out of the hidden room and went to his bedroom instead, the tree and the pond a calming and familiar sight. Falling onto his bed, he had to fight the feeling that he had just made a terrible mistake.
The older brother gasped. Such a dastardly fate could not befall to his sibling.
“Please, release my brother, I beg you. He has done you no harm.”
And the spider spoke: “You wish for your brother, while I wish for food. Why would your wish go above mine?”
The boy thought, then answered. “It does not have to, for there is other food than my brother.”
The spider grinned.
“Then bring me a different prey, and you will have your brother.”
The mandibles of the creature were larger than his hands, and all eight eyes were aimed at him. Had he been able to move further backwards, he would have gladly done so. Sadly, he could not.
“T-the key…?” he asked instead. The creature clicked a few times, disapproving of his question.
“The little fly did not listen. Yes, the key.” They reached out with their… hand…? Front paw…? Leg…? Hand. Probably hand. The creature reached out, towards his face, and Grian fought against the chain, straining to allow himself to go backwards for two centimeters more, to not have to touch that thing for a little bit longer.
Predictably, it was to no avail. The spider still took a hold of his chin, forcing him to look up at them. Grian gritted his teeth, not wanting to look at his capturer at all, but it seems like he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He wanted to do something, but he knew that he had no cards in his hand, and the whole situation was in favour of the house.
“Does the little fly have a name?” The creature bent further his way, their face only a foot away from his face. Instead of answering, he looked away. He didn’t care for their question, he saw no reason why he should give them that. It was one of the things he still had, that they couldn’t take away. It was his, and his alone.
“It would be in the little fly’s best interest to answer.” They did not raise their voice, but there was a promise of something awful in the dark undertones they were suddenly producing. Grian swallowed, really not wanting to find out what Arachne meant, but also really not wanting to give out his name.
“Look at me, little fly. And answer.” The voice went low, dangerous, and he couldn’t help but look at them. Straight into their eyes. He was trembling, either out of fear or out of anger or maybe out of both. He wasn’t too sure at that point, but it did not matter much.
A name. He had to figure out a name. He couldn’t use any of his friends’ names, nor his own. And he had to think fast.
Somehow, the first thing that came to mind was a chicken. A chicken he one of his friends had owned. It had a name, and it would do.
“Sally. You can call me Sally.”
Chapter 6
Notes:
I will have to preface this with an "I'm sorry, Grian".
So yeah.
Sorry.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
After he had given an answer, Arachne’s hand followed his jawline. Grian swallowed, the sensation nowhere near pleasant. His mind was racing, hoping they didn’t see through his lie. He would rather not find out what would happen if they did. No doubt they could very easily kill him if they wanted.
Actually, now that he thought of that, that could be a way out. Last time he had slept in a bed was back at his base, so his spawn should be there. So… He could try to provoke them, and see what happened.
“Sally… Acceptable. Does the little fly have friends?” The spider tilted their head questioningly, their hand still on his cheek.
At first, he didn’t do anything, not wanting to give an answer. Oh, come on, Grian, be brave. Provoke them. Insult them.
Arachne squinted with a few of her eyes, as if anticipating.
Grian breathed in, steadying himself.
“I do, and when they find you they’ll kill you with ease. Just you wait.” He tried to filter the fear from his voice, to make it sound as nonchalant as possible. The result was slightly questionable. In a fit of bravery – perhaps stupidity was the better word here - he then also spat in their face to make his point. Please, let that be enough. That has to be enough, right?
The spider didn’t even flinch as they used one of their free arms to wipe the spit away. They weren’t even staring daggers at him. Without changing their expression, they picked him up by the collar, lifting him forwards and from the ground.
“That was a mistake, l i t t l e f l y .”
He was kicking the air, hands grasping for the collar that was choking him. Even though rationally, dying could actually be an advantage or the way out here, his body was still fighting to stay alive. Grian knew it would hurt, it always did, so he wasn’t particularly looking forwards to it.
“Perhaps I should teach you some manners.”
The pressure on his neck lightened a little bit as he felt the ground reappear under his toes. Somewhere, he was relieved. Somewhere, he was disappointed.
“I won’t listen to you, a-” Halfway through, his sentence devolved into a scream as he felt a sudden burning pain in his left wing. Slowly, very slowly a wicked grin spread on Arachne’s face, as she presented him a handful of beautiful purple feathers. Some of them had a bright scarlet red on the ends of their pens.
Grian whimpered as he stared at them. This had not gone to plan.
“The little fly will listen, or the little fly will not fly again.”
As he woke up, he did not feel rested at all. Judging by the blankets and pillow on the floor, as well as the by the protesting of his back and neck, he had slept poorly, which he did not find strange in the slightest.
He groggily straightened his clothes and tie, then started heading out. Or he would, had he not noticed a shimmer in the early morning light. Mumbo squinted, trying to see it better, until he realised that there was a cobweb between the tree and the way out. One with a very particular shape.
“What kind of Charlotte’s Web weirdness is this?” he asked himself out loud as he looked at the web a little bit closer. No doubt that was letters. Letters forming words, words forming a short sentence.
READ THE BOOK.
“I… guess?” He was perhaps a tiny bit flabbergasted. This wasn’t something he had seen before. At all. Nevertheless, it was very clear to him what was meant by it. His instructions had arrived. Probably. So he should probably go look at those, but first he should go and remove the cobwebs. Best to do that now, lest he forgot.
A little bit of awkward swordsmanship later, Mumbo had dumped the remains of the web on a bit of stone before setting it on fire. Seconds later, it was gone in a puff of smoke.
If only he could do that with all of his problems, that would be a lot easier. Sadly, the majority of his problems would only get worse if he set them ablaze.
The redstoner swatted out the flames, then went for his hidden room. He checked if anyone was around before pulling out a redstone torch and placing it on the side of a very unsuspecting bit of stone. Milliseconds later, a door in the side of the wall opened and the torch got broken, disappearing when it hit the ground. He quickly went through, then retrieved his torch from a chest on the side of the room.
Only after that did he look around the room. It was different than before, given that he most definitely did not place those cobwebs in the corners. A chest had appeared next to the lectern as well. Mumbo squinted. Someone had managed to get in here. Through his hidden door. His honour as designer of hidden bunkers and doors felt a little bit violated.
Shaking the unease from his head, he went to the book. It was still there. The first page was still the same, with thinly veiled threats covering its surface. The page after that, though… Where it once was empty, it now had text.
In the chest to the left is a pouch of dust. Find a new spider spawner and pour the dust in there, then leave it as you found it.
He frowned. If that was all… He saw no harm in doing that. It seemed easy enough as well, which was a good thing, probably. And if he only had to do a bit of caving to get Grian back, that was nice as well.
And so, he picked up the pouch from the chest, and left the room once more. He had seen a few abandoned mineshafts earlier, so he would go there and check first.
Mumbo was just making sure he had enough rockets with him, when his communicator buzzed a couple of times.
<xisumavoid> Everyone, please gather in the shopping district by 9 am. I have an announcement to make.
<FalseSymmetry> Gotcha, I’ll be there!
<Stressmonster> On it!
<iskall85> Sure thing
He looked at it, then sighed. He’d have to postpone his mission, then, but he couldn’t quite not be there.
<MumboJumbo> Alright
From the log he was stood on, he could see the various Hermits arriving. Some, like Mumbo, came flying in, others came popping out of the portal, some, like TFC, came walking. One by one they gathered up, taking up a spot in a large circle. Every time he heard rockets being fired overhead, the admin caught himself looking up at the sky hoping an idle hope. And every time it would be someone else that arrived, not the person he was looking for.
As it approached 9, he started counting heads, satisfied to find all – minus one – had gathered already. Xisuma noticed quite a few that seemed tired as well, as though they had not slept enough or at all. He couldn’t blame them. Even those that weren’t looking like zombies - or more dead than usual, in Cleo’s case – weren’t as cheerful as they generally were. The large empty gap between Iskall and Mumbo spoke for itself, and his stomach churned as he looked at it. Better to not do that, then.
“Since everyone that could make it is here, I’ll start. To bring you all up to speed: Grian was kidnapped. We don’t know by whom, and we don’t know what for. As far as I know, there has not been any contact with the person responsible.” His voice was very matter-of-factly when laying out the facts, maybe a little flatter than necessary. Xisuma knew that he could not show what this did to him, as he was supposed to be the admin, the leader of this group. He wanted to, though. “If anyone has anything to add, please do tell, so we can find him back as soon as possible.”
He looked around, resting his eyes on each Hermit for a moment before continuing to the next. Only few of them seemed shocked at this point, having had some time to process the situation already. Mumbo seemed anxious, fiddling with his buttons again as he looked at the empty spot next to him. Stress seemed like she was ready to cry, while Joe was rubbing her shoulder. Cub was looking pensively.
It was silent for a moment, then False stepped forwards. She had a certain gleam in her eyes, and was decked out for a fight.
“I may have found something. It’s not much, but… I found this.” She retrieved a book from her inventory, and held it up. “There’s a myth in here that resembles the situation quite well. So far, that is. And I kinda hope I’m wrong about this, because me being right would mean we – and Grian – are in big trouble. Long story short, this story does not have a happy ending for anyone involved. I’m going to try and keep track of it, to see where it goes, and maybe to steer the situation away from the bad ending.”
It was silent for a moment. Then Iskall spoke up.
“Are you saying someone is basing a crime on folklore?” he asked, a little bit disbelieving. False nodded.
“Indeed. Or perhaps on a historical event. Myths often have a core of truth in them.”
Iskall seemed satisfied with the answer, and looked back to the admin. Some murmurs of acceptance sounded here and there, before False stepped back into the circle.
“All yours, X.”
He nodded, and stepped forwards again, motioning all of them to come a little bit closer. They did so without question. Something in Xisuma’s face told how serious he was.
“And now for the larger announcement,” he started, voice as soft as he could go without whispering. “I have a lead on a possible culprit. Before anything else, I have reason to believe they are able to eavesdrop on our chat. It is very important that they don’t get to know how close to finding them we are, so please, only tell others what you have learnt in person. Everyone got that?”
There were nods all-round, and Joe lifted his hand.
“I would suggest we put this maniac on the wrong track, by sometimes sharing wrong conclusions and made-up delusions?” Of course, Joe was the first to suggest weaponising words.
“Excellent idea. Just make sure it is not too obvious, keep it a bit low-key. All of you. Joe, can I hand you the reigns on this?” the admin asked. The poet smiled and nodded. This was straight up his alley.
“Good. With that out of the way, let’s go and figure out how we can find Grian back.”
Notes:
Thank you all for the continuing support! It really means a lot to me <3
Chapter Text
The meeting turned out to be quite long, with everyone pitching in ways they could help. Doc and Scar offered the use of the Area 77 surveillance equipment, Cub suggested the ConCorp drones could be of assistance as well, and the three of them decided to be the dedicated tech support team where necessary. Meanwhile, False managed to recruit Stress and Cleo for research and sleuthing. Predictably, Joe was already scribbling out a script for the ‘discoveries’ they would make, and TFC offered to expand his bunker with a protected central meeting room. The others mostly split themselves up into searching parties for each of the three dimensions, given that they had no idea where they needed to start looking. Zedaph, Impulse and Tango volunteered to brave the Nether, while Python, Ren and Iskall were already calling their mission an extreme End Busting trip. Mumbo, Keralis, Wels and Jevin were left as the designated Overworld team, and Xisuma would personally overview the entire venture.
Plans were made, ideas were exchanged, protocols and codewords were put into place. Before long, the whole mission even had the code name Operation Torn Web.
And so they split up once again, each going out to do their task.
Halfway through the afternoon, Mumbo was flying side by side with Keralis to get to the next section of their search. They both had a complicated scanner hanging from their belts, that should let them know whether anyone was near. Or, at least, that was what Doc had explained as he handed them out. Neither of them really got how they worked, but that was okay. The good thing was that they worked, as he had demonstrated by finding Scar’s location through quite some layers of stone. The Overworld team had shuffled around a bit uncomfortably, not entirely okay with the amount of spy gear Area 77 apparently had laying around, but in this case it was probably for the better that it existed. It should be enough to find Grian if there was no more than twenty meters of solid material between him and the sensor.
For now, they had decided to split up the area in sections and work outwards in spirals with the shopping district as centre. Mumbo and Keralis would check from above, while Wels and Jevin went digging around, checking from the caves. After a specific point, the fliers would touch down and go underground, working backwards until they met the cavers. It seemed like a valid plan, and Xisuma had given them the go ahead.
Their last sector before landing would be some mountains to the south-east, after having flown over kilometres of ocean and small islands. Their scanners had been silent for the most part, except when they had flown over buildings with Hermits in them while passing over the main island. Every time, they looked down hopefully before realising where they were. No one was expecting Grian to be this close under their noses, not really. Not when the kidnapper had done so much to erase their tracks. Still, they checked it, just to be sure.
Zig-zagging through the section, both over mountains and through the valleys, Mumbo thought about how much he would have wanted Grian there. That guy was a maniac in the air, and would have been more than willing to fly close to the ground, where obstacles were many and the turns were tight. He would have loved showing off here. For a few moments, the redstoner just looked at the ground without registering what was below, deep in thought with various what-if’s and wishes and ideas and fears. The pouch of dust felt heavy in his pocket.
“Mumbo? Are you listening?” He blinked a few times, then looked at Keralis.
“Uh, sorry. Got a little distracted there. You were saying?”
“We should land soon. I’m almost out of rockets, and we got the section covered, I think.”
“Right. Yes.” His eyes went to the ground again, this time looking for a spot where they could touch down.
It wasn’t long before he found a tear in the earth, where a ravine followed the valley between two mountains. If he wasn’t mistaken, he also saw some rickety structure made of wooden planks span across it. That had to be an abandoned mineshaft. It was almost too perfect. Mumbo pointed it out to Keralis.
“How about there? It would spare us the dig down.”
“That works.”
They both dove forwards, gliding down into the ravine. It wasn’t deep enough to be opening up to lava pools in the bottom, but there were some streams of the molten rock pouring down here and there. The heat radiated off them, warming up the otherwise shadowed, cold canyon. The redstoner was aiming to land on the planks, leading the other towards it as well. Sure, it was a tad precarious, but so was flying around in the active blasting zone of tnt-dropping flying machines, and that had gone mostly well too. There was only a long drop down and a little bit of lava and water to be worried about here. And perhaps monsters coming out of one of the adjacent tunnels too, but that was just one of the realities of this world they had gotten used to.
Pulling up at the last moment, he landed, arms outstretched for balance. Mumbo turned to his search partner, who only just managed to hit the planks with his toes. He shot out his hand, grabbing the wide-eyed man by the shirt and pulling him in.
“Careful there, you don’t want to fall.”
“Wow, thanks! That was close.” Keralis laughed that gremlin laugh of his, perhaps as a way to clear some of the adrenalin from his system. Then he took out his compass and his communicator, switching the latter to its coordinate view. “Now, we should be heading… That way!” He pointed to one of the two tunnels that lead away from the bridge. It was still a gaping black hole, which Mumbo found no issue at all. He had a spawner to find.
<Keralis1> overworld flight division is going underground now, coords to follow
<iJevin> Copy that, flight division!
This was the moment where they would have loved to have another set of arms, so they could hold a torch, a sword and their scanners all at the same time. Given that they did not, though, they’d have to be satisfied with the swords being on scabbards on their hips.
The duo stepped into the relative darkness of the mineshaft.
He had dreamt of the open skies, of a white expanse with empty chairs, of flying through an elytra course with cobwebs everywhere. He had dreamt about a long evening of building in Hermitville, of the hippie encampment, of Sahara and the parrots.
All his dreams had at some point devolved into nightmares. The skies had become dark and stormy, the infinity room had blackened as if by fire, he got caught in a net and couldn’t escape the course. He hadn’t built a dragon on his house, but a giant spider, the encampment lay in ruins, the parrots had all been captured in a cobweb, and once he opened his shulker box, wave after wave of spiders washed out.
Through it all, he hadn’t been able to wake up.
Now, though, he found himself opening his eyes, somewhere expecting to be in his bed back home. After a brief moment of disorientation, he realised it had been an idle hope. It was still that void room, still those slabs. The chain was still there, as well as too many purple feathers on the ground, but at least he didn’t see Arachne anywhere.
Instead, he saw a bucket of water and a small plate of something else sitting on the floor. For the first time, he realised he was hungry. It had been at least a day without food, if he had to believe his perception of time, and he could certainly use a drink as well.
Grian crawled over to the plate, looking around wearily. Was it a trap? Almost instinctively, he folded up his battered wings tighter. It didn’t seem like a trap. Not at first glance, at the very least.
The builder sat down, legs tucked underneath him as he tried figuring out what he was given. It wasn’t any food he recognised. It was a bit gooey, like stew, and some bones were still sticking out of it, so he was quite sure it was some kind of meat. Prepared in some unknown way. Carefully, he bent forwards to take a whiff of the stuff, and he immediately wished he hadn’t. His eyes watered, and he felt like he was going to throw up. Did they really expect him to eat that? It somehow smelled worse than rotten flesh, and even that was a challenge to hold down.
Instead, he focussed on the water for now. There was little that could go wrong with that, at the very least. Except if they poisoned it, of course, a helpful voice in his head chimed in. Grian squinted, but pulled the bucket closer anyway. It seemed like normal water, at the very least. He stuck a finger in, then licked the drops off it.
Yep, that tasted like water. A bit stale, but that was acceptable. He put the bucket to his mouth, and drank a few long sips from it. Not too much at once, as he didn’t know when he would get more, but enough to more or less sate his thirst for now. The builder put the bucket down again, then looked at the food once more.
No, I’m not that desperate yet.
He went back to sitting on the slabs, and stretched out his wings. There were more unfledged bits than he’d liked after yesterday’s encounter with his kidnapper, but he knew the feathers would grow back in time. Eventually.
And so he sat, cleaning up the last few bits of crusted blood with his fingers and a little bit of spit. It wasn’t like he could do much more with his time.
Chapter Text
Somewhere, water was dripping down. The sound echoed through the tunnels, warped through distance. Their footsteps sounded louder than they actually were, but something else was moving down there as well. They could hear it slogging around, flesh and bone dragging over coarse stone. Their flickering torches cast long shadows on the walls as they moved further underground.
Mumbo’s eyes were almost glued to his scanner. He hoped for a signal of something, anything. On the other side, he almost hoped that it wouldn’t go off. Not if that meant inevitably getting his hopes up, to have them then blown to smithereens when it turned out to just be a few zombies or lost villagers or something.
Keralis looked at Mumbo from the corner of his eyes every now and then, just to make sure the redstoner was still there. This was not the moment to lose track of each other, and given the not-so-even flooring, he would not at all be surprised if there were pitfalls here or there. While the scanner could tell them many things, it would not warn them for sudden drops or holes.
The duo inevitably found themselves at a crossroads in no time at all. The path to the left seemed like it hadn’t been used in ages, judging by the amount of cobwebs blocking it, while the paths to the front and right seemed a little bit more used.
That judgement was supported by the sudden arrow wooshing past them, only missing Keralis’ arm by a few centimeters, clattering on the floor behind them.
“Hey!”
It was enough to finally distract Mumbo, who dropped the scanner in favour of his sword. The other man did the same, aiming his sword at the skeleton that was half hiding behind one of the support beams of the tunnel.
“We can take him, right, Bumbo?” The redstoner was already moving, though, rushing forwards and using the support as cover. He knew that he would only have a short moment before another arrow would come his way, and he wanted to use that to its fullest potential. No time to talk tactics, just roll with the punches.
He managed to stab the skeleton once before it aimed an arrow at him. The support strut prevented the monster from getting a clean shot, though, and Mumbo motioned for Keralis to find cover. The other man took a few quick steps towards the other tunnel, then proceeded to peer around the corner to see how the redstoner was doing.
The answer to that was that he was standing in a little bit of an impasse, unable to hit the skeleton without risking being hit himself. The creature – bless their lack of intelligence – kept walking into the wooden pole instead of around it, but an arrow was notched on its bow, that most definitely looked ready to release. Mumbo had his back pressed against the wall, steadying his breathing to concentrate on his next move. If he crouched, he could perhaps get the monster in the legs. It would also leave his back very defenceless as he did so, so it was probably not a good idea. Unless…
He laid the torch on the ground and picked up a few pebbles. Mumbo waited a second, then tossed them past the strut, ricocheting over the floor.
The skeleton turned to look.
Thanking someone above for simple instincts, he sprung out of his defensive position and swung his sword. For a moment noting seemed to happen, and then the skull fell off the spine, and all the bones clattered to the ground, lifeless once more.
At the same time, Keralis heard a tell-tale hiss behind him.
He only had the time to step a few steps forwards, before something behind him exploded, taking down the walls and part of the floor with it. The wide-eyed man tumbled down amidst a wave of rubble, landing about five meters lower, in a tunnel that looked much like the tunnel above them had, rusty rails in the middle and all.
“Ai!” he brought out, rubbing his back. It had caught the brunt of the blast, and his shirt was slightly singed.
“Keralis? You okay?” Mumbo’s worried head came peeking over the edge of the hole.
“A bit burnt, but I’ll be fine,” he said, giving a weak thumbs up. The blast seemed to only have been a little bit away from killing him outright, and the fall down hadn’t helped.
“Do you have food with you?” In response, the other man started digging through his inventory, triumphantly taking out a jacket potato.
“Yep!”
“All right, stay there, I’m going to find a safe way up for you, or make one if I have to.” Keralis nodded.
“Spank you very much, Bumbo~!” he called out, before the redstoner stood up once more, looking around.
Okay, now what? Where would he find a way down? He looked at the different tunnels, until his eyes fell on the one with the cobwebs. He would almost swear there had to be a spawner behind there, somewhere. Mumbo doubted this amount of cobwebs would have been made by a regular amount of spiders, even if they were given a few years. And he still had that pouch.
His eyes moved from the tunnel to the hole in the ground and back. Surely, Keralis wouldn’t notice if he spend a minute on performing his task. Besides, if he did it, he would be a step closer to getting Grian back, wouldn’t he?
His mind was easily made up, and he started carefully disconnecting the dusty cobwebs to form a path for himself. Cave spiders were an absolute drama to deal with, so on one hand he just wanted to get this over with quickly. On the other hand, he wanted to do this right.
So far, though, nothing bad had happened. He looked around every few seconds, to make sure no creeper would suddenly creep up from behind, but the one that got Keralis by surprise seemed to be the only one around. The cave spiders seemed to be unaware of his presence either, so either these were indeed all old webs, their inhabitants long gone, or the arachnids simply didn’t care that he was there.
Either was fine for him. As long as it meant that he wouldn’t get attacked, the exact situation didn’t matter. Mumbo moved his sword through the cobwebs some more, and only a few meters further he could see the signature glow of a spawner.
“Bingo,” he whispered, upping his tempo a little bit. So close. He could not fail now. The webs here were a lot less dusty, indicating that they had to be newer than the ones he just came through. The moment he touched some, he saw some creatures stir in the distance, and Mumbo knew he was in for a bad time. The critters generally ganged up on people, bit a few times, then let their venom do their work. Horrible stuff.
Unless, of course, you were smart and were carrying a bucket or bottle of milk around, of course, then the whole ordeal became a walk in the park.
Mumbo, in this instance, was not a smart man. He had no milk with him, so he’d just have to rely on the old “hit them before they hit you” tactic. It didn’t help that the spiders were able to move through the webs a lot quicker than he could, but as long as they didn’t come in groups, it should be all right.
The glow of the spawner became brighter for a moment, and as if by magic a small group of venomous green spiders appeared.
“Of course! Of course it does. Can’t be easy for once.” He sighed, but kept going anyway. It felt almost as though the pouch of dust was burning to get out of his pocket. Slowly, ever so slowly he made ground, destroying cobwebs and spiders alike as he went through. He got bit once, twice, but the arachnids were skewered on his sword before they could do more damage.
And then he was at the spawner. Mumbo very quickly put his torch down, to disable the mob cage, and then dug up the pouch. Inside was a glittering black powder. What it was, he didn’t know, he didn’t want to know, he just wanted to get this over with.
So, without much ceremony, he dumped the contents of the pouch over the spawner. Its glow dimmed for a moment, then became stronger again, except it glowed green now instead of a fiery orange.
“Riiiight. Okay. Yep. Keralis. Route down. Let’s do that, then.”
Mumbo took his torch again, and turned his back on the spawner. Task done.
He didn’t notice the way the arachnids were looking at him as he walked off.
An hour later, the older brother returned carrying the old frog. He presented it to the spider, then gently put it in the web. The spider quickly spun some silk around it, then looked at the boy.
“It is a good start, but surely, you don’t think such a small frog will feed me as much as this boy will. Get me another prey, bigger this time.”
The older brother looked at his younger brother, and saw the reason in the spiders words. How did a small frog compare to a human? He left once more.
Notes:
I hoped you guys liked the chapter, as it focussed on the antics of Mumbo and Keralis a little bit more, which is different from my normal "check in on many characters" style.
Furthermore, with uni starting back up, I am not sure if I can keep up a daily update schedule. It may be necessary to change it to updating every other day, and then have slightly longer chapters instead.
Chapter Text
It had to be the un-crime-scene-iest crime scene in the history of crime scenes. No blood, no footsteps, nothing. Well, except the footsteps they had left there a day earlier, that was. The trio was looking around, notebooks and quills in hand. They weren’t sure how much they could still find, but it was worth the try.
“So, that hoop with the cobwebs, which one was that again?” Cleo asked. In response, False pointed at the right one without looking up from her notes.
“That one.”
“Thanks!” The captain walked over to it, looking at it for a moment. “Did anyone actually go up there yet?”
“Hmm? No, not that I recall. We saw no reason to do so, yesterday.”
That was all the answer Cleo needed. She shoved the notebook in her back pocket, and held the quill between her teeth. Then she climbed up the hoop with more elegance and ease than the other two could imagine. Then again, climbing up here was not much different from climbing one of the masts of her ship. It was less high, the pole was at an angle, and it wasn’t moving to the rocking of the waves, that was about it. If anything, it was easier for her.
Meanwhile, Stress was sitting to the side, making a sketch of the scene, and a small map as well, so they could annotate where they found things if they did. It was a rough sketch, and she was planning on working it out better at a later moment, but it would most certainly do for now.
False was walking around, poking in the bushes here and there, trying to find something they had missed the day before. She was sure there had to be something, though she wasn’t sure what. More cobwebs, perhaps. She was mostly searching for footprints, but subconsciously she was mostly focussed on finding traces of a giant spider.
What would those look like? Just dots on the ground in two more or less parallel lines? False wasn’t sure, but something that regular would have been hard to miss the day before.
“Guys, I got something!” Cleo suddenly called out. She was looking at a couple of dark droplets on the material, and a few blonde hairs seemed stuck in them.
“What is it?” Stress said, jumping to her feet. False too was pulled from her inspection of the beach, and came walking fast, as though she was straining not to run.
“Blood, I think. And hairs.” She bent forwards a little bit and sniffed. “Yep, that is definitely blood. I’m not going to touch it, in case someone wants to see it undisturbed.”
“We’re at the right place, then. Unless he just bonked his head against that hoop while flying, but I somehow doubt that,” supplied False. The ice queen nodded and looked up at the captain.
“Can you draw it? There could be a pattern in there.”
“I can damn well try. It would probably be better if you could get up here to check it out, though, as our semi-official crime scene photo- uh… drawer. As our crime scene drawer. Consistency in style, you know?” Stress chuckled at that.
“Suuuuure…. And you are completely sure it has nothing to do with you just wanting to see me fail to climb up there?” Her smile was wide. “Well, lucky for me, I brought ladders.” During the exchange, False just stood there, rolling her eyes and sighing.
“Anything else up there, aside from blood, hair and bad humour?” she asked. Yes, she got that a little bit of fun should be allowed, but this was still an active investigation.
“Nothing, really. Well, a bunch of cobwebs, though… These strands are thicker than they usually are. As in, quite a bit.” She trailed off, looking at the strands with a frown. “How big even is the thing that created that…? Do I even want to know…?” she murmured.
“What did you say last? Didn’t get ya there,” False said.
“Oh, uh, looking at the cobweb that’s here, your giant spider theory may actually be right.”
“You mean… like… a spider larger than the usual ones?” There was a hint of a quiver in Stress’ voice, though she was hiding it well.
“More than likely, yes. Probably larger than person-sized, even, if I have to believe that myth.” False smiled gently at the ice queen, then patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, though. If you don’t want to face it, you won’t have to. Pinky promise”
Stress seemed to visibly destress at that.
“I’m going to keep you to that, you know that, right?”
“Wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”
For a moment, they were silent.
“Thanks, False,” the ice queen then muttered.
The sound of something breaking through the water surface suddenly echoed through the valley, and as they looked, they could not spot Cleo in the hoop, only a large ripple spreading out from its base.
“Cleo?!” Stress called out.
No response came, and False was already internally cursing, just in case another one of her friends had just gone missing.
Five seconds passed. Stress ran to the edge of the water, frantically looking around.
Ten. False joined in, calling Cleo’s name.
Fifteen. The water turned an inky black, as though smoke was spreading through it.
Twenty. The black was joined by scarlet.
Twenty-five. Bubbles emerged from the deep, so many bubbles.
Thirty. The two women on the shore were throwing their notebooks on the sand, ready to get in.
Thirty-five. An undead hand breached the surface, holding something they recognised.
Thirty-six. Cleo surfaced, gasping for air.
Fourty. False and Stress dragged her onto the shore.
Despite the fact that she was coughing up water, Cleo still had a triumphing grin on her lips. In her hand, she held a drenched sandal, its leather swollen up with water. It most definitely looked like the standard hippie-issued footwear Grian had been wearing.
“That squid did not want to let go of it’s prize,” she eventually managed to bring out. For a second, no one responded. Then Stress giggled, and not long there after they all found themselves laughing about the situation. Fighting a squid for evidence in a kidnapping case. That was a new one for the books.
“Hey Cleo?” False asked as the laughter had subsided a bit.
“Yeah?”
“Just… Please, next time, say something before diving in to wrestle the local wildlife, so we aren’t halfway through mounting a second search party when you surface,” she calmly stated, though with a soft smile on her face. “I know wrangling all kinds of aquatic monsters is, like, your thing, but… We worry, okay?”
“I’ll try,” the captain sighed. “On the bright side, maybe this means he tried to leave a trail for us. Where to, that’s the next question.”
Sitting in the bunker, Joe was keeping track of both the clock and his script. This was a delicate situation, in which he had to dance on the fine line between truth and lie. Too much truth, and their enemy would know how far they were. Too much lie, and they might suspect foul play. But with enough of both, he could surprise them. He could make them believe the Hermits were incapable, going down a goose chase following the wrong goose. But his facts needed to be right, and there were too many blanks in the script still.
He just really needed the other parts of Operation Torn Web to go well, or else he would not have the input he needed for his part of it. He would make do, though. Joe always did.
The clock ticked further. His message was prepared, he just needed to wait a few seconds longer. Not very long now. His thumb was hovering over the send button, eyes glued to the clock. Its hands reached the right spot, and his thumb came down.
<joehillssays> I found tracks headed east from the crime scene! Anyone available, meet me there!
He was trying to get as much space between him and the ‘food’ as he could manage. It was a fun little game, except it wasn’t fun at all. It was the closest to something to do that he had had since getting here, and that was weighing down on him. He half wished they would give him something to mess around with, if even some things he could make something with. Paper, some glue and maybe a quill or pencil, that was all he wanted. Sure, he could try creating something out of the feathers he had in the end put on a small pile, but that seemed a little bit too macabre for his tastes.
And so he was playing the 'food game'. Yay.
He was just about to play another round of finding the perfect spot to be as far away from the plate as possible, when a voice sounded through the room.
“The little fly said his friends would find me. The little fly’s friends went the wrong way.”
Grian didn’t respond to that. He did not want to believe what Arachne said. He had to keep hope that they would come.
“Does Sally still believe in his friends? Because it seems like they will never find him.” The creature made a noise that Grian had come to call ‘laughing’, quotation marks included. It was a sound that made him subconsciously pull up his shoulders, making himself as small as possible, wings folded tightly against his body.
“I do.” His voice was small, but he had learnt not to disobey. That would only cause pain later.
"That's the wrong answer, little fly."
Notes:
Stress? A bit of an arachnophobe? It is more likely than you think!
Chapter 10
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Xisuma stood in front of the wall, staring at it intently. One side of it was completely covered in a map of the main island and one of the area around Hermitville, courtesy of Doc. He had made sure to completely grey out Area 77, but had assured the admin that if anything was there that shouldn’t be there, they would know. The other side of the wall had a big board on it, with scraps of paper pinned to it. More pins, with coloured threads tied to them, connected the various bits of information they had so far managed to get together.
It wasn’t much at all. Details from the crime scene, small excerpts from the book False had found, a few lines copied from the logs, dated and all, the report of Team ZIT’s findings in the Nether. Smack in the middle was a page with a large question mark on it, and the name “Arachne” scrawled across the bottom bit. The amount of information connected to that was little and was mostly coded with the grey thread of speculation. They hadn’t even found any kind of ransom note yet either, which was worrying to say the least.
Then again, none of them had seen any death messages appear on their communicators, which probably was a good thing.
“Where are you, Grian?” he said out loud, as if the bits of paper could give him the answers he wanted.
“Asking paper and plywood ain’t gonna help ya further, X,” sounded a gruff voice behind him. He didn’t even have to turn to know who it was.
“I know, I know, and yet… I’ve found talking to things helps me understand problems. Like I’m explaining it to myself by explaining it to others.”
“That sounds about fair,” TFC chuckled. “Unrelated side note, but what can I getcha, food-wise? It’s gettin’ late, and I know ya haven’t eaten all day.”
The admin shook his head to that.
“Thank you, but I’m not hungry. I’ll get something when-”
“That wasn’t the question, X. Pick somethin’, else I’m picking you up and dragging ya to the kitch’n to stuff some food in ya.” There was a hint of concern in the old man’s voice, and Xisuma knew better than to go against him. He sighed.
“Do you have some bread with jam? The kinds don’t matter.” If anything, he sounded a bit defeated, and perhaps a little bit more dramatic than necessary.
“Gotcha, kiddo. One bread with jam, comin’ right up!” TFC laughed, and Xisuma could hear his footsteps disappear once more. The older man had had a point. Now that he wasn’t focussing on the case, he noticed he was hungry.
And there was nothing wrong with taking a small break to eat something. He could possibly even stretch his legs for a bit, until any of the other teams would come back. The Endbusting Extreme Team could take any amount of time between a minute and a day, depending on whether they decided to come back or to camp out and press on from there. Regardless, time passed differently in the End. The ladies of the research party had already brought in their findings – The sandal stood on a little table next to the wall – and the tech team was in one of the other rooms of the bunker, setting up a way to watch the video feeds of the various drones, satellites and planes they had flying about. The only ones that he really missed right now where the Overworld fliers and miners.
His gaze fell on the clock on the other wall. They should have checked in half an hour ago already.
“Watch out!” Mumbo shouted as he started running. Behind him, the gravel he had been standing on was sinking down fast, brought into motion by carelessly sticking a torch in it. How could he have known that only the ill-informed physics of this world were keeping it up, and that he had just made said physics realise the impossibility of the situation by – quite literally – shining a light on it. How could he have known that said physics would then immediately try to set the situation right. And how could he have known that there was lava right underneath the unsuspecting floor.
The other three stopped in their tracks and looked over their shoulders, but as they saw Mumbo barrelling straight towards them, the sinking gravel chasing his heels, they ran as well. There was too much of the stuff here to be able to figure out which parts were safe, and they would rather not find out the hard way.
Wels spearheaded the run, surprisingly nimble and quick on his feet considering the amount of armour he was wearing.
“This way!” Pointing with his sword, he lead them through the cave, eyes searching for solid stone ground. Anything that wasn’t gravel would do. The other three couldn’t do much else than following him, as they did not feel particularly enthusiastic about an impromptu game of the floor is lava. Besides, where else would they go?
Running at the end of the line, Mumbo did not feel safe at all. The magma was hot on his track, and he knew that one misstep could mean him falling in and dying horribly. The question was what would run out first: the gravel or his stamina. He was already panting, giving everything he could. Maybe he should pick up running when he got out of here.
Meanwhile, Keralis was enjoying himself a little bit too much. This reminded him a little bit of one of his favourite games in Hermitland, the one Xisuma had made. He was just skidding around corners with a big grin on his face, though that was maybe helped by the certainty of not being last in line. There were still meters between him and the falling gravel.
One corner, another, and finally Wels found a spot where the cave went up to something white that wasn’t gravel. He made a beeline for it, motioning for the other three to follow him. The knight clambered up quickly, then laid down on his stomach to help pull the others up. Keralis first, then Jevin. The slime man also stuck out a hand towards Mumbo, who decided that making a jump for it was probably better than trying to slow down and climbing up.
Then the gravel under his feet slipped away, splashing into the lava with a sizzle. He was in the air, still moving forwards, but not with enough momentum, not with enough power.
The realisation that he would die horribly and lose all his items came before the realisation that two sets of hands were clinging to his arms, holding him up, feet dangling inches away from the lava.
“On three, Jev, let’s pull him up.”
“Gotcha, Wels!”
“One, two, three!” The two men grunted as they started lifting up Mumbo’s weight, and before long the redstoner rolled onto the safe platform. He noticed the white stone, and he couldn’t help but laugh.
“Oh man. Saved by diorite. If only Iskall was here to see,” he lamented. Jevin snorted, and the knight just sat back panting.
“That was fun, you guys. We should do that again sometimes!” Keralis was smiling widely as though they didn’t all just almost got incinerated. The redstoner just looked at him tiredly.
“No. No, we should not.”
“Awww, Bumbo, why not?”
In response, he only pointed at the soles of his dress shoes, that seemed slightly molten.
“We can get you new shoes, if that is the problem.”
A sigh rolled over Mumbo’s lips as he shook his head, not bothering to go into a discussion about this.
Logically, he knew that the venom would at some point stop coursing through his body.
Right now, though, it didn’t feel like it would ever stop. He was jittery, his nerves firing seemingly randomly all over the place. The builder wasn’t sure if he felt hot or cold, in pain or not, moving or still. His sight was woozy, with black spots dancing all over his field of vision, and the silence around was so loud that his heartbeat sounded like a wardrum hammering through it.
One consistency was how on fire his left arm felt. The one he had tried to instinctively shield his face with, as Arachne had come closer, sadism and indifference for his situation fighting for dominance in their eyes. The one where the sleeve hung in tatters from the elbow down. The one with a bite mark the size of his hand, that had since turned a sickly green.
Milk. He wanted milk, needed milk. Maybe if he politely asked them, they would give it.
No, no they wouldn’t, why would they first poison me and then help me? That doesn’t make sense!
But what if it did? He wouldn’t know if he didn’t ask.
So they can gloat some more? Never.
Grian rolled over on the slabs, his leg spasming and twitching, his hands shaking. He felt horrible, wanted to throw up, wanted to be helped and cared for and loved . And all this for having faith in his friends.
Maybe Arachne had had a point, when they said that-
STOP IT! NO! THEY DON’T THEY DON’T THEY DON’T!
His friends weren’t here though.
They will be! The Hermits will come to save me!
What if they really went the wrong way, though-
shut up shut up shut up shut up
-then they would never find him and-
no no no not listening not listening happy thoughts, Grian, happy thoughts
-he would stay here forever in this room-
flying, chickens, pranks, dancing with the parrots, banter, building ridiculous things
-at Arachne’s mercy.
He let out a wince, pressing his hands to his ears and closing his eyes shut. No matter how bad it got, he could not let them win. He’d have to get through this, push himself until he was saved.
Will I be, though…?
Notes:
In which "the floor is lava" is a valid plot device and TFC is an actual grandpa
also, sorry grian
Chapter 11
Notes:
warning in front: the fifth perspective of this chapter (Grian's) is not happy at all, and contains suicidal thoughts.
Chapter Text
Night came, went, then came again. And again. And again. They barely had to make use of Joe’s script to make it look like they were going the wrong way, as they were barely making progress at all. Stress had taken some of the threads from the crime scene to her alchemy lab to try and figure out if it was really just spider silk on steroids, and came to the very shocking yet unsatisfying conclusion that it was. The Endbusting Extreme Team was still not back, and ZIT had decided to go for a longer search mission as well. The Overworld Fliers had been returning exhausted every day, but with no news either.
They only had two significant milestones in three days: Cub, Doc and Scar had managed to bring all the drones online and linked them up to their video room, where at least one of them was watching at any given moment. Xisuma was there often as well, knowing that there was no reason to stare himself blind on the same bits of paper.
The second milestone was when Cleo and False found the second sandal. They had extended their search of the area around the crime scene, and had been methodically searching the ground in all directions. It had been coincidence, really, that they had chosen to go to the west first. Or, well, coincidence… They reasoned that that was the direction to go if you wanted to keep away from the other Hermits, after having just kidnapped one. It was Cleo that had come across it, precariously balanced on a jutting rock in the cliffside. How it came there was a very big question, but their running theory was that the spider had been crawling across the surface as the sandal fell off. Crawling to where, though. That was the bigger, more important question.
Only Mumbo had consistently been making progress. He had been getting tasks, one after the other. Some where easier than the others, and they were generally quite harmless. At the very least, he wasn’t too sure how tossing some specific pebbles into the wells of some villages would mean harm, so that was good. And hey, if he could get Grian back this way… If he was honest, it sounded more promising than the search.
The brother had come back once more, this time with a dead crow. He offered it to the spider, that put it in its web.
“Thank you, but while this prey is bigger than the frog, it still won’t sustain me as well as this boy would. Get something better, and you will have your brother.”
The older brother looked at the crow, then at his brother, and saw what the spider meant. And so he went away once more, looking for another prey.
This pattern repeated more and more. The boy brought bigger and bigger preys, and yet, the spider was not satisfied. Every time, he was told it was not enough. And every time, he saw the reason in the spiders words.
Late in the evening, after his search of the day was over, he returned to his base to find a single spiders web in the doorway to his bedroom. He didn’t even need to check it to know it would point him to the book once more There was not really another option. With a sigh, he disposed of the web, tossing it on a torch to incinerate it this time.
Mumbo tiredly dragged himself to his secret room. As time passed, and he finished more tasks, the room became more and more a spiders den. The walls were simply covered in cobwebs, and there was a permanent smell of something permeating the air. The book was still there, though, just laying there, waiting for him to open it up. And as expected, there was one more page filled in, signed with that same green spider.
This time, though, Mumbo had some trouble believing what they were asking of him.
“Just… What? Why would I say that?” He was just glaring at the paper, not sure what to make of it.
You may tell your friends that I am in the mountains to the south, past desert and ocean. Though, do remember my rules. You cannot tell them of this book.
Sure, most of the other requests and tasks had barely made any sense, but this… It was weird. Why would they now tell him where they were?
“I suppose it does make it easier… Tomorrow morning. I’ll go by X tomorrow morning. Surely I can think of some way to justify knowing this.”
Mumbo rubbed his forehead. This was going to be difficult, and he better play his role well. He was a bad liar, everyone knew that. It was just that if they figured out he was lying, or telling half-truths, the chance was very very present that Grian would never come back. No pressure. No pressure at all.
He left the room once more, the presence of the door blending seamlessly into the wall. This was going to be an interesting night. There was a buzz of something in the air, and he was not yet sure if he liked it.
“Wait, what’s that? Play that again.” Doc pointed at one of the monitors, with more energy than the video room had felt in three days. Contrary to popular belief, just sitting and watching a video feed got old really really quickly. Scar, the other person in the room, hit a few keys on the keyboard, and the footage rewound.
Massive stone sliding open. A suited man walking out of the room behind it. Stone closing again.
“Can you zoom in on that? Just the bit where the door is open.” The cyborg went and stood right in front of the monitor, carefully observing what he saw. He couldn’t quite see everything in the room, but he did notice the pattern on the walls.
“I’m afraid this is the best I can get you. Any more zooming and it’ll just be a blocky mess,” Scar remarked, before hitting some more keys so the monitor would display the same loop over and over.
“That’s fine. Look at this. What does that make you think of?”
The landscaper came closer, looking at the footage too.
“If it was autumn I would’ve said someone put up their Halloween decorations earlier.”
“My thoughts exactly. Mumbo, Mumbo, Mumbo… Why do you have a hidden cobweb room?”
The duo looked over the footage a few times more, then paused it.
“We’re going to need to get X.”
Every day, the ‘food’ looked more inviting. His stomach had stopped rumbling a day ago. Instead, he just had this hollow feeling that wouldn’t leave, keeping him awake at night. Grian frankly was a mess. The venom had done him a number, and the few more times that Arachne had stopped by to ‘chat’ or ‘ask questions’ had not helped at all. Add to that the lack of decent meals and barely any sleep, plus the fact that his arguments as to why his friends would certainly come were getting more and more sparse…
He was not in a good place in any definition of the words. He felt so small, so insignificant in here, and his mind was trying its very best to talk him down even further. It had come to the point where he had seriously considered ways in which he could respawn. There was always the bucket of water, that he knew. He also knew that he wanted to live, if only to spite Arachne.
Tired eyes found their way to the plate of ‘food’ once more. It surely couldn’t taste as bad as it smelled. It simply could not. Grian knew most taste came from smell, so if he just pinched his nose shut and got it over with… Well. That should in theory work. Trying out one bite would probably be best, so he at least would get something in his system, even if it tasted horribly.
He crawled closer, careful to not accidentally take a sniff already. This was not at all going to be pleasant. He didn’t even have any kind of utensils, just his hands, so… That would have to do.
The little fly swallowed. He didn’t want to, but his body screamed for food, for energy.
Then he stuck his fingers in, separating enough to fill his mouth once. The texture was gooey, almost like pudding or yogurt. Whatever it was, it was not the texture meat should have. With his other hand, he pinched his nose shut.
And then, before he could overthink it even more, he went and just ate it.
It was… surprisingly edible-ish. Yes, it tasted horribly, but not as bad as it smelled. He could almost even swallow it down without gagging in the process. Tears were prickling in his eyes as he did so.
Well, it didn’t outright kill him, at the very least. It also made him want to eat more of the stuff, before his emotional brain could stop him from doing so. His emotional brain really didn’t want to eat more, but he was going to just have to force himself if he wanted to get any significant amount of energy in his system.
Once more, he eyed the plate. ‘Food’ was food, after all. His eyes watered once more, logic clashing with emotion in his head.
Fifteen minutes later, he found himself back on the slabs, the empty plate in his hands. He had even managed not to throw up, and keep it all in. Grian wasn’t sure about how he felt about that, but boy, was he frustrated and angry about it all.
Once more, he looked at the plate, then stood up. And with a roar of emotions, he threw the damned thing as far as it would go.
Meters further, it clattered against the wall, then fell down, leaving a few spots of brown on the infinite black.
Chapter 12
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It took half a minute of knocking on his door before he woke up, then another ten seconds for him to realise what he was hearing.
“Be there in a minute!” the admin called out, voice groggy and warped by his half-mask. He rubbed his eyes with his palms, not too happy to be awake. Then again, it had to be serious if people came to wake him up at – he checked the clock on his communicator, the light almost blindingly bright – a quarter past two at night.
“Urgh… okay then… I’ll get out… it’s fine, it’s fine,” he murmured to himself as he sat up, before putting on his bunny slippers and bathrobe. He didn’t exactly care about what whomever was behind the door would think, he was tired as hell and he would show that. If the bags under his eyes didn’t betray it, his general appearance would.
And so he dragged himself to the door, bunny slippers and green bathrobe and loosely braided hair and all. Without much ceremony he opened it up, squinting at the sudden bright torchlight.
“Scar...? What’s up?” he groaned, suppressing a yawn. He felt like he could fall asleep standing right there and then, but Xisuma forced himself to stay awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Well, we got something you ought to see. The drones picked up an... interesting development, to say the least.” His voice had a hint of worry in it as he spoke, and the admin felt part of his tiredness be replaced by adrenalin. Virtually any development would mean progress.
“Lead the way.”
The duo walked through the tunnels of the bunker, and Xisuma’s heart raced faster the closer he got. He didn’t want to bring up his hopes too much, but maybe, just maybe this could be the thing that lead them to the missing Hermit. Gods knew they could all use good news for once.
The video room was only lit by the glow of the monitors, and the smell of too strong coffee was everywhere. Doc was sitting behind the control panel, eyes sweeping over the various video feeds. They all showed different places, all of which Xisuma recognised, either from having been there or from having seen them earlier.
“Evening, Doc.” Xisuma stepped inside, followed closely by Scar, who closed the door behind them. The cyborg nodded in greeting, then pointed to the monitor in the top right corner.
“Thanks for being here this quickly. That’s the one you’ll want to take a look at.”
The admin turned to the monitors, quietly observing what was going on on the monitor. It looked like… Mumbo’s base? Okay then. That seems normal enough, I- What’s that door? Hmm… Just the fact that the redstoner had a secret door somewhere was not a cause for concern, really. He would bet most if not all Hermits had one somewhere.
“Now, keep watching, I’m going to zoom in for you,” Doc simply stated, and Xisuma frowned. Zoom in? The fragment restarted just a little bit before the door would open, and it was focussed on there as well now. A second later there was movement on screen once more, as the door opened and Mumbo came out. Still, nothing special, but…
His eyes widened when he noticed.
“Wait, are those cobwebs?!”
“That’s exactly what we woke you up for,” Scar confirmed. “I think we may have a mole.”
Xisuma rubbed his forehead, a grunt of displeasure rolling over his lips. This could help them, or this could screw them over very hard.
“The good news is that it’s Mumbo,” shrugged Doc. “We all know how that went last time.” The admin hummed in agreement, eyes finding the monitor again.
“Where is he now?” Behind him, fingers danced over a keyboard, and the monitor flickered between images a few times.
“Last we got, he went… There. To his bedroom, so it may be safe to assume he’s asleep. I can check, but it’ll take a few minutes for the drone to reach the right position again.” The cyborg started typing further, and very briefly, Xisuma was glad that he had a base that was more underground. No spying drones there.
“Right. Before we do anything else, we need to figure out what is in that room, and then decide what we’re gonna do about it.” The admin sighed. So far for a good night’s rest. “If Mumbo’s asleep, this is the best moment to check. Scar, can you go get False? I want her there.”
The landscaper nodded, then hurried out of the room.
“I’m gonna have to get my helmet, aren’t I?” he asked out loud as he stared after him.
“Some armour and boots don’t seem like a bad idea either,” Doc responded. “Go get changed, I’ll give you a sign when all’s clear.”
“Yeah, I should.” It took him a second to get moving. “Thanks, Doc.”
This was going to be a long night.
With a cloak wrapped around her, she stood waiting on the platform of the Elytra course. Under it, she wore a not-so-modest amount of diamond armour, and her trusty sword hung from her side. She doubted an infiltration mission would turn out in a fight, but False liked being prepared for things like that. She even had a shield tucked away in her inventory. She would swap out the cloak and chestplate out for an elytra when then would leave, but for now, the little bit of extra warmth was nice.
As she heard rockets being fired in the quiet of the night, she looked up, sharp eyes searching for the source of the sound. It didn’t take long at all for her to find the glint of diamond armour coming over the Sahara building. That had to be X, no one else would be flying here this time of night. Her theory was confirmed when he landed next to her.
“Did Scar tell you what we’re possibly dealing with already?” he asked after greeting her.
“Yeah, he brought me up to speed on things. I just hope this is all some kind of misunderstanding, cause that would be great.” While talking, she accessed her inventory and re-equipped her elytra, putting her cloak and chestplate away. False stretched as the weight disappeared from her shoulders, enjoying the freedom the elytra gave.
“Me too, False. Me too. But let’s not bring our hopes up too much, we don’t know what they have been doing in the shadows.” He placed a lot of emphasis on the word, and she knew who he meant by it. She nodded pensively, before taking a rocket in her hands.
“Shall we, then? We don’t know how long he plans on sleeping, so we shouldn’t waste time.” She adjusted her goggles so that they would keep the wind out of her eyes as she flew.
“Let’s go.”
Where Xisuma opted to jump in the air and time his rocket well, False dove off the platform head first, unfurling her elytra just before hitting the ground. She pulled up hard, and started following after the admin, opting to use her rockets sparingly. Less rockets meant less noise, and less noise meant less chance of someone waking up because of it.
The duo flew side by side, mostly checking around for anything suspicious. Given that most of their journey went either above sea or around a currently uninhabited base, though, there wasn’t much to be noticed, except for the one drowned that tried being aggressive by tossing his trident out of the water. He also missed by a mile, given that they were flying high and the mob could not throw that far at all.
And then the giant glass and concrete structure that was Mumbo’s base came into sight. It was quiet, all farms having been turned off for the night. The only movement came from the polar bears in the winter section of the storage system, and the occasional chicken that was wandering around. The latter certainly had to be the product of one prank or the other.
As they approached, they switched from using rockets to just gliding down slowly. Doc had shown Xisuma exactly where the door should be, and both of them knew the general layout of the base, so in theory this should be a quick in and out mission. The only thing they weren’t entirely sure about was how to open the door, but they would figure it out somehow. And worse case, there were always silk touch pickaxes.
“Coast seems clear, let’s go for it.” Xisuma spoke loud enough for her to barely hear him over the sound of the wind and no louder, but it was fine by her. She stuck a thumb up, and dove further forwards, making some speed before her landing manoeuvre. Seconds later, the admin followed her lead, and landed smoothly, switching between flying and walking effortlessly.
False looked around, hand on the hilt of her sword and ready for action. She was looking out for enemies as Xisuma went and searched for the door from the video.
It was more the redstone torch laying burnt out on the floor than the landscape itself which eventually pointed them in the right direction. The top bit seemed a little bit smushed together where something had seemingly hit it, and that was all the admin needed to figure it out.
“Over here,” he whispered, and False came sneaking over.
“Let’s see what happens if I just…” He took some redstone from his inventory and rubbed it on the torch, that immediately started to glow again. Then, after carefully looking at how the rocks jutted out, he put the torch on the floor on a specific spot, close to where it had laid on the ground.
For half a second, nothing happened. Then pistons fired, the torch got pushed over, and the wall split open, revealing a room full of cobwebs and a lectern.
“Well, that does not look shady at all,” she stated, peering into the now no longer hidden room. “I’m going in.”
Before Xisuma could stop her, and before the door closed, she went in, making a beeline for the book on the lectern. The spider theme of this whole situation continued here as well. For a second, she checked around the book for traps, and then opened it.
False read the first line once, then again, and only after that went on with the rest. An uneasy, sinking feeling slowly settled in her stomach as she read on, first the terms, then the requests. Simple, harmless at first. Every time just a little bit bigger, a little bit more. Her mind was racing as she made the connection with the myth, suddenly realising that in this case, Mumbo was the older brother in the story. And she knew where this path would lead him, if he didn’t realise it in time.
Not knowing how much time she had, she pulled out a notebook, and started copying the text in the book as fast and precise as she could. It was a good thing to have, although it would have to mostly remain a secret or there would be trouble.
When she finished, False took care to put everything back as she had found it. And now to get out of here. Luckily, the way out was less hidden than the way in, and the button was in plain sight. What was also in plain sight where the small spiders, some of which were definitely looking at her.
“Nope. Nope, nope, nope!” False hit the button, and started moving out the moment the pistons started moving.
As she walked through the door, she could not shake the feeling that by the simple act of having been here, reading those pages, she had just doomed Grian.
Notes:
i have very strong feelings about sleepy!xisuma okay
in any case, should you want to scream at me for whatever reason, come find me on tumblr (@castiel-cipher or @fluid-quartz) or hit the comments
Chapter 13
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
She closed the door behind them, then threw her notebook on the table.
“Guys, we have a problem here. The situation is a whole lot more complex than we thought.”
False had changed back to chestplate and cloak, and was pacing up and down the room. Xisuma went and half sat on the edge of the table, while Doc and Scar were still on their chairs. The latter was focussed on the video feeds, but the cyborg blinked a few times, gesturing to slow down.
“Woah, False. Go from the beginning. What happened?” His voice was calm, but it didn’t stop her from glaring at him.
“I was getting to that. Basically, I went into that room, and found a book on a lectern. Black leather, spider motif, you get the gist. It seemed important, so I started reading it. You guys, Mumbo is getting extorted and manipulated by that asshole.” She gestured wildly as she spoke. “Like, he has to do these tasks, or else bad stuff happens to Grian. The ‘you’ll never see him again’ kind of bad.”
Doc picked up the book and started paging through it, while Xisuma frowned, crossing his arms in front of him.
“Why didn’t he let us know, then? We could have helped,” the admin asked
“Because of the terms of the thing. He can’t tell anyone about the book or the tasks, or else Grian is a goner.”
“Geez, that’s… Not good. We’ll have to make sure they won’t find out we know, then.” He rubbed his helmet where his forehead was, visibly unhappy about the situation.
“Thing is, I’m pretty sure that Mumbo continuing down this road isn’t going to get Grian back either. Not if I have to believe the myth, which has so far been on point, by the way.”
“How did that story end, anyway? You never told us,” Doc stated, and False turned towards him, a dark look on her face.
“The spider kept asking for more, until the older brother decided to sacrifice himself for the younger brother. And then they both got eaten anyway.”
The Void was dark, as always. It was a calming yet vaguely threatening constant, certain death just meters below them. The air was starting to feel familiar, though at times they still felt as though there was a tiny bit too little of it to properly fill their lungs. And the islands… They had lost track of how many they had come across and searched. The trio had quickly taken to marking the ones they had already been on with water, because it did not take long for them to figure out that they all looked nearly indistinguishable, were it not for their coordinates. And they sure as hell were not going to be keeping track of those forever. So, water it was. Three buckets, that was all they had taken along, but it was enough.
At first, their enderchests had been filled with shulker boxes full of rockets, food, and a few spare elytra. Over time, their resources had dwindled, the various End cities not providing the things they needed. Sure, rockets had been replaced by enchanted gear and shulker shells, but those would not make them fly any further. And while they could eat chorus fruit in a pinch, none of them particularly liked the idea of randomly teleporting every time they tried to get some food in them. It just would not do.
The Endbusting Extreme Team had once again landed on an island, their scanners out but silent, as they always were. Python was stretching and rubbing his shoulders, while Iskall had put down the enderchest and was checking now much further he could still go with the resources he had left. Ren, meanwhile, had started digging up some endstone and was building a small and low roof over their heads to protect themselves from angry endermen. The madman then proceeded to anger some endermen while muttering something that sounded like “blood for the mending god” and then killing the mobs that were coming for him.
“Man, I will never get used to how loud those endermen are when they die,” Python remarked. He pulled out some golden carrots and sat down, gently nibbling away at one. “How’s our stock doing, Iskall?”
He was frowning at the shulker boxes, calculating in his head. Assuming we all use the same amount… Leaving room for manoeuvring and flying back, and accounting for cities … Hmm… About ten minutes per island, that makes… Seventeen.
“I think we can just about make seventeen hours of searching and then the flight back. Of course, if we take a -” his eyes unconsciously went to the edge of the island and the Void behind it “- shortcut on the way back, we can probably squeeze out two more hours, but you two need to be okay with that as well.” Python simply shrugged.
“I don’t see why not. We set our spawn right before we went, we can just dump everything we got in an enderchest and be done with it. Yeah, we’ll lose some levels and the chest, but those can be easily replaced.”
“Wasn’t that the plan to begin with?” Ren interjected, taking a short break from slicing at endermen. He then proceeded to check out the state of his elytra, seeing if it needed more mending or not.
“Well, my dudes, that’s settled then. Nineteen hours of searching, then we head back.”
His communicator buzzed, and then a few moments later Ren’s did, and then Python’s as well. Iskall frowned, wondering what that was about. As he took out the screen, though, it wasn’t the groupchat that had new messages. It was a private message.
<xisumavoid> You and the other Endbusters are to come back asap. We have a situation.
Something had to be wrong. It had to be, otherwise they would not be pulled from their mission, let alone by private message.
“You guys also got that order?” he asked, and the other two nodded. “So far for nineteen more hours, then.”
<Iskall85> Copy that. We’ll be there in a moment.
After putting away his communicator, he took off all his armour and his elytra, and he shoved everything he owned into the enderchest. Python and Ren saw that as the signal to start doing the same, working fast and methodically. They double, then triple checked that they weren’t leaving anything of value behind, and made their way over to the edge of the island.
“Gentlemen. As such concludes our Endbusting Extreme mission. I will meet you both on the other side,” stated Iskall, before saluting and stepping off the edge.
>> Iskall85 fell out of the world
“After you, my dude.” Ren smiled, and Python nodded.
“See you in a few minutes.” He stepped off backwards, waving as he went.
>> PythonGB fell out of the world
Ren looked around once more, trying to make eye contact with as many endermen as possible before jumping over the edge, laughing as he fell.
>> renthedog fell out of the world
The night was going to be very long. With Xisuma and False keeping an eye on the feeds, the Area 77 boys had dragged Cub out of bed for a mission of their own. Armed with a stack of very tiny cameras they flew over to Mumbo’s base, briefing Cub while on their way. In theory, their mission was very simple. Get in, put the cameras in place, and get out. Sure, they needed to make sure they were not spotted by Mumbo, but that was doable enough, especially when he was still sleeping. And they could just have someone standing watch, to warn them if something happened.
Scar volunteered for guard duty, which meant that Doc and Cub got the wonderful task of Big Brothering up the area around the hidden room, as well as the room itself. One of their very specific requests had been to place one in such a way that they could see what was written in the book when it was open, so they could stay in the loop as to what Mumbo was up to. That was the most important. That was the one camera that tech team really needed to get working. All of the others could fail, as long as that one worked.
It was Doc that went into the room itself, while Cub spread his cameras around outside. He tried getting as many angles on the door as he could, taking special care to also put a few of them in Mumbo’s portal building. Given that they didn’t know where the spider was hiding, it was best to have eyes on all exit and entrance routes.
The cyborg, meanwhile, had a hard time figuring out where he could put the button-sized cameras without them being blocked by the cobwebs that were everywhere. That was, until he realised he didn’t need to. As long as he had at least one angle from which something was visible, he could just put together the feeds to form a complete image. The realisation made it all a whole lot easier, and it meant he could actually put the cameras half behind the webs, hiding them from sight.
It was very good that he had steady hands due to his experience with building and maintaining robotics, else he would have certainly torn a web or two in the process, which would be… Less than optimal. It would be a trace that someone had been there, and he didn’t want to leave any of those. That would most certainly mean bad news, if the wrong being found out. So far, though, it all went well. He had a few close calls, where the camera almost slipped from his fingers before he could attach it to the walls, but eventually they had all been placed.
Doc went and took out his communicator, sending a quick message to Xisuma.
<DocM77> X, could you check if all cams are operational?
It took a while, in which he looked around the room, staring down any and all arachnid that so much as dared show its face. Then his communicator buzzed.
<xisumavoid> I have eyes on you and on the book. Open it for a second?
The cyborg walked over, and opened it on one of the first pages, the one about… throwing stones in wells? Huh.
<xisumavoid> Yep, all good.
<DocM77> We’ll return, then.
He put his communicator away, opened the door and looked around for the other two. Cub seemed done with his task as well, standing nonchalantly leaned against one of the stone walls, seemingly waiting.
“All done?”
“Yup. Let’s get Scar and let’s go.”
Notes:
oh, look, the first deaths of the story!
Chapter 14
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
First thing in the morning, the group gathered in the bunker. While everyone looked tired, Xisuma, False and the tech team looked least awake, with bags under their eyes and large mugs of coffee in their hands, courtesy of TFC. Those five hadn’t slept all night, discussing what they should do now into the early hours of the morning. By that time, going back to sleep wasn’t really an option anymore, so they had just stayed up.
Xisuma was looking around his fellow Hermits, doing headcounts but always coming up short. Grian wasn’t there, of course, and they had not invited Mumbo for understandable reasons, but the others… The Endbusters weren’t back yet, and team ZIT wasn’t either. He frowned. He had seen the death messages of the Endbusters, those should have been back by now. And ZIT… Well. No death messages from their side, so that was something.
The admin frowned, and checked his communicator as well. Nothing there either. Worry settled in his stomach, but he couldn’t show it. The other Hermits needed him to be strong, so he would be.
“Alright, everyone, I would like to start. There is still some people missing, but because we have a little bit of a time-sensitive situation on our hands, I’ll fill them in when they arrive.” The chatter died down as he began speaking, eyes aiming at him. Very shortly said: Mumbo has been compromised. He-”
The door suddenly opened, and through came Tango, Impulse and Zedaph. They were covered in sooth, and their clothes were singed in multiple places.
“Sorry we’re late! We had some... issues, with ghasts and lava,” Zedaph said, before finding a spot to sit. Xisuma breathed out in relief. Only three missing, then. Though, where they were… Focus, X. News first, search later.
“That’s fine, thanks for coming! Now, as I was saying, Mumbo was compromised. He found a ransom note that basically forces him to perform a series of tasks that he cannot tell us about. We have reason to believe our enemy is watching him, so he cannot know that we know. Questions so far?” The admin looked around expectantly, observing the faces of his friends. Stress in particular looked doubtful and worried, though she was by far not the only one.
“How do we know this, if not told by Mumbo?” she asked, piercing eyes aimed straight at him. Joe and Cleo whispered a few things, nodded, and the former spoke up.
“I have the same question, actually, and Cleo here too.” Xisuma nodded, turning to Doc. The cyborg first took a sip of his coffee before speaking up.
“When patrolling the Futuristic District, our drones picked up a glimpse of Mumbo leaving a secret room filled with cobwebs on his island, so X and False went to check.” His voice was very matter-of-factly, as though he was presenting some news or something. In a way, he was, of course. Joe did not seem impressed.
“You just so happened to pick that up while patrolling the district? That doesn’t seem entirely realistic. Are you spying on him alone, or on us too? I’ll have you know, were aren’t some goddamned zoo.” He punctuated his words with gestures and pointing, and it seemed his spirit and energy were rousing up the others as well. There was some muttering here and there, and some “He has a point, you know?”’s. Doc sighed, looking at Scar for a little bit of backup.
“I know it sounds a terrible lot like coincidence, but you’ll have to believe us. We aren’t spying on any of y’all, we’re just doing our jobs. Anyone that doubts that is very welcome to join us in watching the feeds.” The look that accompanied his words was a mix of tiredness, annoyance, disappointment and frustration. “We can even show you the programming of the drones, so you can see their route for yourself.”
“Joe, is that enough of an answer for you?” Xisuma spoke. He just wanted to continue with his story, and knew that some of the probably worst parts were yet to come.
“I will keep you to that, you know? Just to check that this isn’t all for show.”
“Alright. So. The tech team went back to this room and placed cameras, so we can see who enters it and what is written in the book. This way, we’ll know what Mumbo has to do, so we can secretly and subtly help out. Yes, Joe, this indeed is spying on someone, but it is only this room, nothing else.”
In the background, Cub seemingly wanted to say something, but before he could open his mouth, both Doc and Scar had more or less discretely deposited their elbows in his sides.
“The idea right now is to help him out, on the off chance that he can actually get Grian back with this. Meanwhile, we’ll use it as a trap for the enemy as well. We know that once a task is done, a new one is written in the book, and given that someone has to do that, we can track or tail that someone.” The admin looked around, seeing if anyone had questions before continuing once more.
“We know that currently, Mumbo has to tell us that the enemy is somewhere in the south. This is more than likely a trap, but we’ll have to go there to follow up on his intel anyway. The most important part here is that once again, Mumbo cannot know that we know. Furthermore, once he told us, we need to make sure that we talk about it in chat as well. Everyone got that?”
He looked around, and the other Hermits seemed to get the plan. Once more, Joe took out his script, and began dramatically striking some words through and making adjustments where necessary. It had been a common occurrence in the last few days, and some of the pages looked as though it would be easier to just rewrite completely, with the amount of adjusted text they had.
“Well then. You all know what you can do, so I’d say, good luck today!” Xisuma nodded appreciatively to them, and the Hermits started to scatter once more, Stress being the first to leave the room.
Not a minute later, her scream echoed through the bunker.
The area around them was pitch black, as the Void had been. No walls, no roof, and the only reason they knew there was a floor, was because they woke up on it. Their visions were as blurred as their memories, or maybe that was just Iskall. To him, everything that wasn’t the blackness looked weirdly flat, in a way, and he didn’t know why.
“Urgh… Where are we? Did we glitch out or something?” He rubbed his forehead, migraine building behind his eyes. There was a pressure on his throat, and it was a little bit difficult to breathe.
“I don’t think so, my dude.” Ren didn’t sound so good, and an unfamiliar clanking noise made Iskall look over. Something was different about him, and it wasn’t the metal collar and chain that were wrapped around his neck. Whatever it was, the swede couldn’t put his finger on it. Looking around further, he could see a blur of black and red laying on the ground as well, by the looks of it still in some form of passed out. At the very least he was breathing.
He managed to push himself upright, feeling a chain tug at his neck as well.
“What the hell?! Where did this come from? How even did we get here?” Iskall had many questions, and not nearly as many answers. That didn’t stop him from trying to break out of his collar, though. Generally, in a fight between metal and flesh and bone, the metal won. This was no exception, as the swede too found out.
Frustrated, he opened up his inventory, and then vaguely remembered putting all his things in his enderchest. That did not help the frustration situation, and it most surely didn’t help his headache.
“Dude. Where is your eye?” Ren suddenly asked, genuine concern bleeding through his words. The swede frowned, hand going to touch his eye socket. The dogman sighed.
“The other one. The diamond one.” That made him frown even deeper. His diamond eye? It should just be there, like his normal eye. As his fingers felt for it, though, he could only find the jagged edge where the metal had been torn apart, a little bit of wiring jutting out of the hole.
“I… I don’t know,” he whispered, feeling but finding nothing. He frantically looked around, as though it would be on the ground somewhere, but it wasn’t. No wonder he had such a headache. Realising that didn’t bring his eye back, though. “I don’t know, Ren. I just… Don’t know.” Not again. Not again, please, not again. How could I lose it? Did someone take it from me? Why would someone do that? Without realising, he had started breathing faster and more shallowly.
“Iskall. Hey, listen to me dude. It’ll be all right. We’ll get it back. Don’t panic.” Ren’s voice was calm and steady, and the swede clung to the words like an anchor.
From the shadows, something strange sounded. It did not quite sound human, but not like an animal either. Male nor female, old nor young. A voice.
“I spy… with my little eyes… Three little flies, fallen in my web.”
Notes:
also known as the chapter where i for a moment seriously considered just writing joe's dialog in iambic pentameter
Chapter Text
Cleo and False were the first two to break out in a sprint, unsheathing their swords as they ran. Stress had sounded as though she was in trouble, and they did not want to lose another one of their friends. They stuck to the main tunnel for now, knowing that that was the most likely path she would have taken on her way out.
“Stress?! Where are you?!” False shouted out. She was looking around, but dreaded what she might find. No answer came, but as the duo came closer to the exit of the bunker, they could hear soft noises, like whimpered sobs. Relief spread through False. While she disliked hearing the other Hermits cry, at the very least this meant Stress was still there.
“Hang in there!” Cleo called. They dashed around one corner and then the next, and finally they had eyes on Stress. She was on her knees, shoulders shaking as she cried. The ice queen sat just before the exit, in the early morning sunlight that came through the open door.
Without thinking twice, False sheeted her sword, and made haste to come up in front of Stress. There, she knelt down, opening her arms for an embrace.
“Hey, I’m here for you. Do you want a hug?” In reply, the ice queen wrapped her arms around False’s torso, fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt and holding tight. She buried her face in her shoulder and continued sobbing, and False had never seen her so vulnerable. It broke something in her.
“Sssht… It’s all right now, we’re here, you’re safe. Don’t worry.” Her voice was soft, as soothing as she could make it. She gently rubbed Stress’ back, already feeling her tears wetting her shirt.
Cleo meanwhile had also come to a standstill, about two meters behind them. She could only look at what was in the doorway. At first, she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. Then, as the realisation dawned on her, shock overtook her.
“False?” she said, her wavering voice barely more than a whisper. “We have a problem.” Instead of speaking further, the captain simply pointed at the large cobweb, and the things stuck in it.
False looked up at Cleo, then followed the direction she was pointing in. Immediately, she felt her stomach drop. She recognised those things, knew who they belonged to.
A diamond eye, jagged metal surrounding it. Two fangs and a tattered black tie. A braid of brown hair, a wilted flower still tucked into it. Iskall. Python. Ren.
“No… Not them too!” she breathed, and her voice broke. She held Stress tighter, for now focussing on the shorter woman to not fall apart herself. Stress was very close with Iskall, with them practically sharing bases, so this had to be very hard on her.
In the distance, more running footsteps came closer, running towards them. How long would it take for them to notice, to realise three more of their friends were in the hands of the enemy? The first ones were skidding to a halt now, but False didn’t look up. She was looking down at the floor, her comforting motions automatic as she fought to keep her thoughts in line. Going into a panic would not save her friends. Getting angry wouldn’t solve anything, until she got face to face with whoever did this. Crying seemed like a great option, but she knew she had to be strong for Stress. She didn’t even realise she was shaking.
Footsteps stopped, one after the other, and she could hear the others come to their own conclusions, have their own reactions. She could hear anger, sadness, confusion, disbelief, all mixed together. She could hear them calling for others, and a pair of footsteps running away again. Above all, she could hear Stress, still sobbing into her shoulder.
So far, his morning had been quiet. He had woken up semi rested for the first time in days, and was eager to get to work once more. It helped that his shoulders were getting used to the amount of flying he had been doing over the past few days, and that his muscles ached less than the day before. Mumbo stretched and got dressed, a small morning ritual. It all had to go in the same specific order every morning, not counting those days on which he just passed out from exhaustion and slept in his suit. Luckily, those days were few and far between.
Breakfast came and went, and he was sitting on the edge of his globe, looking out over the waves. He was waiting for the rest of the Overworld flyers and miners to pick him up for the next bout of searching, and more specifically, so he could tell them where they should go, what they should check out. Then that task would be over, at the very least, and he would be one step closer to getting Grian back. That would be worth lying to his friends for. They’d understand, when he explained it afterwards, he had no doubt.
For a while, he stared in the distance, towards the shopping district and the railway station and Grians waterfilter of a base. When he looked at it like this, everything seemed normal. For a moment, he could forget about everything, and pretend it all was fine and dandy. He could pretend that Grian would fly out of his base at any moment, or that a short moment of dropped vigilance would mean his base was covered in eggshells and chickens.
Mumbo sighed, a small smile on his lips. Yes, that would be good, when everything goes back to normal. He checked his communicator, both for messages and for the time. Nothing there, except for the death messages of the Endbusters. And at the very least Keralis should have been here already. It made him frown. Something wasn’t right. He opened a private message to the wide-eyed man.
<MumboJumbo> Hey, weren’t we supposed to meet up?
Then he laid it on the concrete next to him, waiting for a reaction. Had he forgotten something? Were they supposed to meet up somewhere else today? He couldn’t remember them talking about something like that, but then again, a lot had happened over the last few days, too much to all remember. A buzz next to him tore him from his deliberations, and he hastily grabbed the communicator, almost letting it slip from his hands in the process.
<Keralis1> Hi!
<Keralis1> You should probably come to the bunker.
<Keralis1> Like, right now.
<MumboJumbo> ???
<MumboJumbo> I’m on my way!
The sudden sound of fireworks put everyone in the tunnel on edge. Rationally, it could really only be one person, but there was a rather large unknown in their situation. The Hermits barely knew anything about the kidnapper, for all they knew it could also be them. And thus, multiple weapons were brandished. Doc had his trident, False, Wels and Cleo had their swords, Cub was loading his crossbow, and Impulse had his bow, ready to shoot. The only one that seemed kind of calm under it all was Keralis, despite the surprised expression on his face.
As Mumbo walked into view, though, instead of some form of monster, there was a clear wave of relief washing over them. That was a friend, at the very least.
“Guys? What is going- Oh.” He stopped in his tracks before the cobweb, staring at the items in it. Specifically, at the eye of one of his best friends. It took him a short moment to parse the situation. Iskalls eye, ripped out and stuck in a web. Two more sets of items that their owners would not have given away without a fight. The emotional Hermits at the other side of the web.
His hands balled to fists. Who did that spidery asshole think they were, coming in and taking his friends away from him? What was next, more threats, more things he had to keep hidden? The redstoner was seething, and he wanted nothing more than to personally strangle the bastard. But how? He didn’t know where they were at all. Though…. He knew where they would be, if he did everything right. A plan was starting to hatch in his mind. Killing them there won’t bring Grian and the others back, though.
Roaring in frustration, he started ripping at the web, intending to completely destroy it. The threads were thick and strong, though, and would not budge. He only managed to make his hands stick to it and get entangled in it, which made him feel even more frustrated and helpless. Mumbo just fell to his knees, hands still stuck, hot tears dripping down his face.
Chapter Text
He had taken to plucking stray strands from his sweater, where the fabric had been ruined by mandibles or fangs or claws. It was the only material he really had access to, if he didn’t count the feathers on the floor, and the urge to build, to create, was not something he was able to suppress. Of course, there was not much he could do with a bunch of red string, but he had figured something out at the very least. He just used it to make little pictures of the Hermits. It gave him something to talk to, other than himself and empty air and his capturer.
At that moment, he had an image of Mumbo laying on the slabs in front of him. Or at the very least, an attempt at it. It was very weird, how fast one could forget the precise details of how someone looked. Even when it was a close friend, that he had seen so many times.
“I’m sorry I didn’t quite get your hair right, Mumbo. I just… it looks wrong, but that may just be the thread. Do you mind?” His voice was soft, barely more than a whisper. He was silent for a short moment, head cocked to the side as though he was listening to an answer. “That’s what I thought too. I’m lonely, Mumbo, and I don’t know how long I can still take this. Are you guys looking for me? Will you be here soon, to break me out?”
He stared at the wool intently, half hoping that it would suddenly start talking back.
Seconds passed.
The string stayed silent.
The little fly sighed, idly playing with the bits that made up the moustache, reshaping it into various other styles. That also didn’t make the string talk. It also made the image of Mumbo look even less like Mumbo. In the end, he just went and put it back the way it was. This was not helping him.
“Are you even coming at all?”
The feed played before his eyes, waves and grass moving quickly in the wind. Cub was fast-forwarding through the video taken by the camera near the entrance, hoping it caught something. It simply had to. A web could not simply appear out of thin air. At that moment, it almost seemed like the worst idea in history to have everyone in the meeting, and not have anyone keeping track of the security tapes. Why had they done that? Even though in theory no one else should know about it, this was just inviting trouble.
One by one, he saw Hermits coming into the bunker, then nothing for a bit, then team ZIT arriving. Cub hit the play button, and the footage resumed playing at normal speed. If anything was there, it had to be in this time frame. The meeting had been short, maybe fifteen minutes tops, and that was if he was very optimistic about it.
For half a minute, everything seemed clear. And then something moved from the shadows into the light. Something who’s movements just seemed wrong. Something big. Something with entirely too many limbs. Something that did not at all look human. Cub held his breath as the creature came nearer to the camera, more details slowly becoming visible. Large mandibles, eight blood red eyes. Spindly arms and legs, twelve in total. It moved on four pairs of them, easily navigating the terrain, while the two pairs of arms jutting out from its upper body seemed to be holding something. The entire thing was covered in a dark green carapace, from head to abdomen.
He tasted bile in the back of his mouth as he looked at this freak of nature, and hit the pause button, the creature fully in frame. If this was what they were dealing with… Well. Everyone was going to need the Bane of Arthropods enchantment on their weapons. Without looking away from the screen, he took out his communicator.
<cubfan135> I got something you all should see.
<cubfan135> Video room.
<cubfan135> The cameras caught it.
He put the device away and continued staring at the image in front of him.
“Who are you?” growled Ren through clenched teeth. “Why are we here?” Gone was his calm façade, and Iskall felt himself start to tremble again. He didn’t dare look in the direction the voice came from, not in his current state.
“The little fly has questions… just like little Sally had.” A different sound came forth, a completely warped version of a laugh. The swede made himself smaller, as thoughts raced through his head. Sally? Who… Do they have anyone else locked up in here? But… who is Sally? I swear I’ve heard that name before.
“You sit before Arachne, ruler of this domain… And you, little flies, fell into my web.” He was vaguely aware of something moving closer towards him, and judging by Ren’s gaze, the thing was right behind him. A shudder went through him. Please ignore me please ignore me please ignore me.
And then he felt a hand underneath his chin, following his jawline. Iskall froze in place, not wanting to give it any ideas.
“Let go of him!” Ren had jumped to his feet, trying to come closer. A mix of anger and desperation coloured his voice, and his hands were balled into fists. He seemed ready to throw hands if given the chance, but the chain came up short. “I swear, hurt him and I’ll-”
His words were interrupted by another laugh, cruel and sadistic.
“And you’ll what, little fly? You cannot stop me.” Their voice was low, dangerous, and then suddenly, very close to Iskall’s ear. “Should I eat that little fly first?”
It took all his self-control and the realisation that they still had their hand on his unprotected neck to shake his head, and to not try and punch Arachne. He liked his friends uneaten, thank you very much.
“Oh? The one sleeping on the ground, then?” They grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at Python’s unconscious form.
“Hey! Cut it out, asshole!” In his head, he was almost praying for Ren to just sit quietly by, but he also knew that that was not something the man was capable of doing. That was why he wasn’t relieved when Arachne let go of him, hissing into his ear.
“The choice has been made.”
They moved into his field of vision, and morbid curiosity was the only reason he was still looking. Iskall really did not want to, but he found himself unable to look away from the creature’s hideous form. He watched as they took a hold of Ren’s collar and lifted him off the ground. He saw Ren trying to kick and punch them, and he saw Arachne catching one of his hands.
“No! Stop it!” The swede found himself calling, as though the spell that made him unable to look away or react had suddenly been broken. His words fell on deaf ears, though.
A horrible crack sounded, and Ren let out a deafening, heartbreaking scream. He clutched his broken arm, panting heavily, but still with a glimpse of defiance in his eyes. Iskall shoved away his own fear and ran towards the spider-like creature.
“Don’t you DARE!”
He managed to get within kicking range of the bulging abdomen, and didn’t even hesitate before planting a foot there. Arachne screeched in pain, head whipping around to look straight at him. Then they lashed out with one of the legs, hitting him full in the stomach. It knocked the air out of him and launched him backwards, spine painfully colliding with the edge of the slabs.
“You will be next, l i t t l e f l y.” Their attention turned back to Ren, as the swede laid wincing on the ground. If he survived, this was going to be a bruise. Meanwhile, Ren was still trying to hurt the creature in some way or the other, with very little result. The angle was horribly inefficient, and because of the way they held him in the air, it was difficult to put any kind of power behind his kicks.
And then three simultaneous buzzes made Arachne halt. Without lowering their prey, they took out three devices that made Ren’s eyes widen. It was suddenly clear to him where their communicators had gone, and that they had not just glitched out, as his previous hypothesis had been. With two sets of eyes still aimed at Ren, Arachne started to type.
<Iskall85> cameras?
<Iskall85> which ones?
<cubfan135> The ones near the entrance
<cubfan135> …
<cubfan135> Crap
Somewhere in the distance beyond the void walls, he swore he could hear a scream of pain, one that sounded eerily familiar. It made him wince momentarily. It was the first time he heard something happening outside of the walls of his cell, and he was not sure what to make of it. Would that really be one of the Hermits, or was Arachne playing tricks on him again? Or was it just his mind, already going crazy from loneliness?
He listened intently, but heard nothing else. Grian slowly blinked once, then turned his attention back to the string, now forming the crude outline of a spider. Probably a trick of his mind, then. Of course they weren’t here, why would they be?
Notes:
the update is a little bit later than planned, uni work has been swamping me a little. in any case, i assume y'all want to scream at me now despite the sorry in the beginning. so come scream at me in the comments section or on tumblr (main: castiel-cipher, hermitblr: fluid-quartz)
Chapter 17
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Frankly, he should have seen it coming. He should have thought a little bit longer, or at all perhaps, before answering to a question in the group chat. It had just felt so natural to answer a question Iskall asked, that he hadn’t stopped to think that perhaps it wasn’t the swede behind the keyboard. By all means, he should have known. He knew the Endbusters were in enemy hands, that had been made clear just minutes earlier, and he could have derived that their communicators would be as well.
And yet, he didn’t. Cub felt like smacking his head against the desk until some common sense returned to him, but he also knew that what was done was done. He just hoped that the others would understand. Then again, it was not that much information I gave away, right? Only that we at least have cameras near the entrance, and that we know what they look like. In the grand scheme of things, that is not a lot.
He was in the middle of facedesking when Xisuma entered, Cleo, Scar, Zedaph, and Impulse in tow. At the very least they did not look mad, just worried. That was something.
Of course, most of their attention went to the screens, still showing the spider-like creature in sickening detail. Scar only glanced at it for a moment, then looked at Cub and walked over, putting his hand on his shoulder.
“You’re gonna ruin a perfectly good table if you continue like this, ya know?” he asked, his tone soft and not accusing. It made Cub stop, head resting on the table.
“That’s your concern?” he scoffed dryly. Then he chuckled and sat up, his forehead reddened by the repeated impacts. Scar just smiled back.
“Yup.” Cub rolled his eyes, then pointed at the screen.
“It seems like this is who we’re dealing with. Suddenly, all of the spider symbolism makes a lot more sense, doesn’t it?”
Zedaph whistled and took a step closer to the screen, taking a better look at it all.
“So… how are we going to take care of this… thing?” Cocking his head to the side as he spoke, he looked for places where the carapace seemed weaker or in some other way vulnerable, like at joints. Not that he could learn much by looking at a still image, but at the very least he could try and that was what counted.
“Bane of Arthropods, probably. And diamond swords, stacked with as many enchantments as we can fit on them. Probably Godarmour is a good way to go as well,” Cub listed some possibilities on his fingers, then looked around at the others one by one. “Anyone else has a clever idea?”
Xisuma was stroking the underside of his helmet, and Impulse was frowning.
“We can try and contain first, and proceed with killing only if absolutely necessary. We need to know where they keep Grian and the others before we move to more… drastic measures, especially because we don’t know whether they respawn or not. It would be bad to kill them and then figure out they don’t come back like we do,” Cleo said.
“I’m pretty sure that we have a bunch of redstoners that would love to help setting a trap. We’d just need to know a location they visit reliably, and then put it there,” Impulse added, and Xisuma nodded.
“We actually have one of those locations. We know where they communicate with Mumbo, and we can steer when that happens as well.” He tapped his chin. “The only problem with that is that Mumbo cannot know, because at some point he will accidentally spill that. And that means we’ll have to build it all without him noticing and without him accidentally setting it off.”
Scar frowned at that, and Cub and Impulse seemed to have their concerns as well.
“So basically it has to be undetectable redstone that does not interfere with the circuitry that is already there, that does not trigger on Mumbo walking in but does when a misformed spider crawls in over any of the walls. It may even be necessary to make it activatable from a distance, if we want to really make sure that Mumbo can’t accidentally trigger it. That’s a tall order.” While speaking, he counted out the problems on his fingers. “Especially when we can’t completely regulate who goes in and out of the place, cause this will likely take a few days to set up properly, testing included.”
The four redstoners then promptly started discussing how the problem could be solved, one option even greater and more complex than the other. Meanwhile, Cleo and Zedaph stood next to each other, just observing and sending the occasional glance over to the screen depicting their enemy. At about the moment where Scar wanted to go get Doc, Tango and paper for blueprints, the zombie girl cleared her throat, catching their attention.
“Say guys. Wouldn’t it just be easier to sabotage the door release on the inside? Mumbo can easily mine out, I don’t know if that also goes for Spiderman over there.” She nodded towards the screen. One moment, it was silent, and everyone stood still. Then Xisuma slowly facepalmed.
“That is… probably actually the easiest way of doing it. We are derps, every single one of us.”
Cleo simply shrugged.
There were quite some frustrations in the group, and there was a perfectly fine cobweb to enact their destructive desires upon. Sure, it was not the one that had kidnapped their friends, but it was a good substitute. Stress had calmed down enough to go and try to help Mumbo, both by gently talking to him and by freezing the web around his hands. The string became brittle and snapped at the tiniest movement, falling to the ground like misshapen hail. False was busy with gently taking out the items that belonged to their friends, cleaning the spider silk off them as best as she could. It was tedious, but it was worth it. Joe had taken to removing a little section with shears, and then cutting it up in the tiniest pieces he could manage, while Tango seemed content with setting small sections on fire and burning it away. Doc was yielding his trident as though it was a fork and the web was a plate full of spaghetti, and Wels, Jevin, Keralis had their swords in their hands, cutting through string after string after string.
The only one not actively busy with destroying the web was TFC. He had picked up a broom, and was pushing the remains closer together, so they could more easily be disposed of later. They would probably be burnt, looking at how effective Tango’s tactic was.
“Ya know, I do wond’r how they were taken. It don’t seem plausible that all of them were snatched away just after respawnin’, cause their bases are miles apart. That bastard can’t be at two places at the same time, let alone three,” the old man stated, simply sweeping away at the floor. It was silent for a bit, then Joe piped up.
“Falsey, remind me, what did that myth say? Those other creatures, how did they all become prey?”
“The older brother asked them to sacrifice themselves, for his brother’s sake, and those that knew they were old or sick did,” came her answer, as she looked up from the braid she was freeing from the cobweb.
“Then I have a theory, hear me out if you don’t mind. ‘Cause this is about the life they consigned. They knew they would die, so we can call their choice their ‘death’, even if they had not yet taken their final breath. So they ‘die’ and then the web is next on their way. I guess you know what I’m trying to say. I think if we die anywhere along this trip, we’ll find ourselves waking up in the spider’s grip.” He set out his theory point by point, and False found herself nodding along. It did seem plausible, even though it would mean that somehow, their enemy was able to reset their spawn.
A shiver went through her. That was not a nice thought.
“That myth fits eerily well with the situation, doesn’t it luv?” Stress asked False as she froze and destroyed one of the last threads connecting to Mumbo’s hands.
“Mmhmm...” the blonde hummed in return. “I’m starting to think it may be more based on real events than I thought before. Sure, there’s a layer of abstraction there, but… Well. That’s what myth’s do.”
“So, just so we’re clear. If that’s the theory we’re rollin’ with, y’all are gonna have to do your best even more than normal to not die. I don’t think we’ll want to gather more evidence that the theory holds.” TFC sounded gruff as always, though a small sliver of worry managed to weave itself through his voice. It was grounded worry, though. The world they lived in had many ways in which one could die, both very predictable and very sudden. If dying would really send them straight into the spider’s web, as Joe had theorised, that could form a problem.
“Of course, man. I doubt there’s any of us that really likes the experience of respawning at all anyway, so trying not to die seems quite doable and natural,” Tango said, incinerating another section of the web and in the process leaving a small sooth mark on the ceiling of the tunnel.
“You know, I do hope I’m wrong about this,” the poet said. “I hope I’ve never been more wrong in my life.”
Notes:
Would you look at that. The second update of today. Whoops. I may or may not have gotten a tad hyperactive because of caffeine and suddenly there was more chapter.
Chapter 18
Notes:
TW for very bad self-image and injury for the second perspective
i guess ill have to say "sorry, Grian" in advance.
Chapter Text
With the web destroyed, the question was what to do next. Just going back to what they had been doing sounded more or less like the right thing, but they also knew that they had lost people to the spider that way. But what else could the Hermits do? Just go back to their projects, abandoning their friends? It was highly unlikely any of them would accept that. Besides, now that they knew more about what they were dealing with, they could at the very least try to prepare.
Mumbo mostly listened to the discussion about which enchantments they would need, and how they could possibly fix the dying situation. He knew that this could very well be the best moment to complete his task, and he was still very much unsure about whether he even wanted to do it. The bastard had taken more of his friends, yet still expected him to betray them. Well… I don’t have to really betray them. I need to tell them some information that may or may not be true. What they do with that… That is not on me, is it?
If at all possible, he just wanted to tell them everything. About the book, about what he had done, everything. He wanted them to know why he had done what he had done, what was at stake here. If he did it deep in the bunker, where there was no way they could find him, would that still risk Grian? Would he be risking Ren, Iskall and Python as well, then?
He subconsciously started fidgeting with the buttons of his suit jacket, eyes set on infinity, looking but not seeing.
“- Mumbo?” Cleo asked, and he snapped back to reality. Blinking a few times, he looked at her.
“Huh? Sorry, what?”
“Is everything all right? You look a bit… Well, out of it.” Her voice was laced with concern, and he saw multiple worried gazes land on his face. I shouldn’t risk it, and have a bit of faith in the other Hermits. They can deal with this.
“Oh, uh, yes, things are fine. Uh… I’m fine, I mean. I uh.. I was just… remembering something,” he started, half falling over his words as he went. Xisuma raised his eyebrow at him, as if saying he should continue. Well, here goes nothing.
“I came across something. I found a place- uh, I couldn’t sleep last night, so I went out searching more, and, uh… Yes. I think I know where we can find Grian and the others. Maybe. Probably. I saw the thing, going into the caves. In the mountains. Yes. Mountains. To the south.” He was stammering, but it was almost as though the others didn’t notice. Even Xisuma was nodding along.
“How far to the south?”
“Well, uh… I wasn’t keeping track, not really. I just know I had to fly over a desert and then ocean as well.” How are they… not noticing I’m lying through my teeth? Have I just improved that much since the civil war, or are they just that tired?
False was already grabbing for her sword and equipping her elytra, and Mumbo suddenly felt very bad about it. What if he was just sending them into a deathtrap, and then straight into the spider’s web? Sure, they would get to the right place, but not in the right way. Not at all. If he tried going against it now, though, that would be very suspicious.
“Are you going there now? Are you prepared enough?” The fumbling continued, as did the gut feeling that this would end badly.
“If not now, when? Don’t worry too much, I got this Mumbo. Besides, I ain’t planning on going there alone.” False walked up to him, patting him on the shoulder, and he had to fight to hold back a wince.
“I’ll come with you, if you don’t mind?” Wels asked, brushing a few specks of his chestplate. The knight seemed ready for battle, like always. Doc too stepped forwards, some remains of a cobweb still on his trident.
“Do you have room for one more?” False just grinned and nodded.
“See, Mumbo? Not alone. I’m bringing some of the best fighters we have here. That makes a decent scouting party, doesn’t it?”
He couldn’t help but agree with her. These were indeed the ones he trusted with weapons most. The only one he would have wanted to be there too would have been Biffa, but… Well. No one had seen him in months, and they weren’t sure where he had gone. He had probably just skipped to a different world, as people sometimes did around these parts. Nevertheless, in the recent light on things, Mumbo couldn’t help but think the worst about this too.
“It… Well, it does, frankly.”
“Good! We’ll go slap some Bane of Arthropods on our weapons, and we’ll be off. Anyone has any problems with that?” False said, hand on the hilt of her sword.
The redstoner didn’t notice the silent conversation Xisuma was having with Doc and Wels, glances and stares being the only words. The one that said good luck and be safe and please don’t die and I’m sorry.
The longer he sat in the void room, the smaller he seemed to become. He knew the infinite expanse of black was simply a trick of the eye, but that didn’t make it less imposing. Knowing something is a trick and being able to see through it and ignore it were two completely different things.
He had been toying with the strings again, but had been distracted by the skin of his arm. The place where he had been bitten was starting to have a normal colour once more, although it was still swollen, and there were a few scabs where mandibles had pierced through his skin. He had wondered if those would become scars, and had then come to the depressing conclusion that they might, if he would live long enough for that.
Grian frankly didn’t know what he could expect anymore. He had been left alone for probably half a day now, Arachne not even coming in to gloat or mock or hurt. There had been another platter of ‘food’ when he had woken up again, and once again, he had eaten it. It had gone easier, this time, even though it still tasted bad. The little fly did not complain about it, though. He felt as though he was starting to get some energy back again after not eating for three days, and that was worth something. Probably. He had not quite decided yet about if the ‘food’ was worthy enough in this case.
Still, being able to sit and think and talk to the air and to the portraits of strings was both a luxury and a curse, as far as he cared. A luxury, because he could distract himself from what was happening to him. A curse, because he was very aware of how his optimism and hope were slowly deteriorating.
They probably won’t come. Maybe I’m just not worth the trouble. I’m the new kid, after all.
“No, they wouldn’t just give up on me.”
Then why aren’t they here yet?
“This place is probably hidden super well, it might just be difficult.”
Do you really believe that?
“I have to believe that, don’t I?”
Pathetic.
“Shut up.”
You’re too much of a coward to see what’s going on. They aren’t coming.
“I said SHUT UP!” Grian punched the floor hard, fist hitting solid rock. There was a crack, and his knuckles suddenly felt as though they were on fire. He winced, tears springing into his eyes.
That was just stupid.
“I know, I know, I know…” His voice was soft and fragile as he gently took his hand, looking at it. The skin had broken in a few places, and the pattern of bumps and dips of his fingers just seemed wrong. “Auch...”
You should have just listened to me, then this wouldn’t have happened.
For now, Grian mostly tried to ignore it. He had to figure out how to fix this, but he wasn’t the best at first aid. It most definitely didn’t help that he did not have any kind of bandages here, or medicine, or a potion. Should he try and ask for it?
Try it. That can only go wrong. Why would they care?
Grian frowned, unsure of what to do now. Go against the nasty voice of reason in his head, and be the naive optimist? Follow along with it and just wallow in self-pity for a while longer? He knew he wouldn’t get anywhere by just sitting there, clutching his broken hand.
And so the little fly went and gently cleaned up the string, stuffing it all in his pockets. Then he stood up, and walked into the direction where he thought the spider-like creature generally came from if they entered the room. The chain stopped him a few meters later, but that was fine. This was fine. It just had to be.
For a moment, he looked at the ground, then up at the wall. There was not much difference between them, not really, but he more or less knew what he was looking at.
Last chance, do you really think trying this will help, without any kind of negative effect?
“No, no not really. But I’ll never know for sure if I won’t try,” he whispered to the air.
He breathed in, then out. Here goes nothing, then.
“Arachne?” he called out, doubt still very clear in his voice. As nothing happened at first, he went to call again, louder this time. “Arachne?”
He stood there, looking at the wall. Then Grian heard a warped chuckle somewhere behind him.
“And so... the little fly calls for the spider.”
Chapter 19
Notes:
TW for blood, gore, and graphic depictions of violence. Stop reading at "The spider grinned at him as he thought, waiting for his answer". It is safe to proceed after "His eyes became wet, his vision blurred by tears."
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
He didn’t turn, not yet.
“I… did, didn’t I?” He exhaled shakily. There was probably still a way back, if he could figure out a lie really quickly. His thumb rubbed over his broken knuckles, a grunt of pain rolling over his lips as he touched the places where he was bleeding.
“And why would that be?” Their voice went deep and dangerous, and Grian had the feeling it was getting closer as well. Decide. Ask truthfully or lie. He clenched his fist shut a little bit tighter, and his eyes as well. He could almost feel the eyes burning on his back, he didn’t have to hear the soft and muffled footsteps to know they were right behind him.
Be brave, Grian. Show you’re not a coward.
“I- Please. I need some bandages.” Grian spoke as strongly and bravely as he could muster, which, admittedly, wasn’t much. At the very least he managed to keep a tremble out of his voice, so that was something.
Once more, he heard that awful ‘laugh’.
“Oh…? Did the little fly hurt himself?” Arachne asked, showing exactly how bad they were at pretending to be concerned. The little fly just nodded in response, not saying much. He hated this. He hated every damn second of this. He just hoped they would give him the bandages without too steep a price to pay for it and then be gone again.
“Tell me, Sally. Why would I care?” came their response, every hint of concern replaced by indifference. Grian blinked. He had somehow assumed that they would at least want to keep their prisoner more or less healthy, but apparently that was a wrong assumption. He swallowed, then turned around to face the spider-like creature.
“Because… because I’m asking…?” Already, he was trembling. Already, he subconsciously made himself smaller, and already, he was awaiting for them to lash out at him. And yet, it didn’t happen.
Instead, Grian could see their mandibles move upwards, almost in a grin. Instead, they grabbed his wounded arm and looked at it. Instead, he saw something in their eyes that made his gut turn.
“Tsssk. The little fly is amusing… The little fly will not be getting bandages.” His eyes found a particularly empty bit of blackness to look at instead of at Arachne.
“Instead… I have an offer.” The last word was laced with danger, and he was not sure how to deal with that, or what it meant.
“An… offer?” Grian repeated, still looking away.
“Yes. The little fly can listen. An offer. I will heal your little wound, and in return… you accept my marking.”
Immediately after the spider had left, Iskall had gone to Ren, beckoning him to come closer. He had tried to set the arm straight again, with moderate success, and had in the process ripped his brown jacket to pieces to function as bandages and a makeshift sling for now. It was fine. It was the best they could do in the situation, they simply didn’t have the resources they needed for it.
And so they found themselves sitting on the ground, side by side, trying to keep their spirits up and comforting each other. It was hard. Somehow, the situation was not entirely ideal for cracking jokes, them generally either turning sour really fast or just feeling weird. After a while, they stopped trying to make jokes altogether. It didn’t work.
“I wonder how the others are doing, and if they figured out what happened. We did miss that meeting, after all. I think they noticed we are gone, at the very least. They should have by now,” the swede sighed. Ren nodded.
“That’s likely. They would miss our handsome faces too much.” Though he chuckled, he didn’t sound happy at all. “Besides, I think-”
“Uuuurgh… What… what happened?” suddenly came a weak lisp from a few meters away. The heap of body parts that was Python had finally begun stirring, and was now in the process of propping himself up with his arms.
“Python! Thank goodness, we were starting to get worried here!” Iskall crawled over as far as the chain would allow, trying to see if his friend was okay.
“Shomefing is wrong. How are you thoo here? And… fish ishn’t my bashe,” he lisped, looking around and checking out what was going on. Then Python frowned, feeling at his mouth with his fingers. “Wait, where are my fangsh?”
Iskall looked to the ground, his hand almost automatically going to where his eye used to be.
“Gone. Taken. The spider caught us, somehow.”
Behind him, Ren also moved closer with a soft clanking of chain against chain.
“At the very least we ended up together,” he added. It was perhaps the only positive point about their situation. They were not alone. They had someone to talk to, and that could talk to them as well. Iskall couldn’t even imagine how bad this had to be for Grian. The man practically ran on building, social interaction and pranks, and the swede would be amazed if he could properly achieve any of those while locked up somewhere.
“Fatsh shomefing, fen. Sho uh… Breakout. When and how?” Python seemed serious about it, already testing out his chain and collar, as the other two had also done earlier. Much like the others, he found them too strong to break. He frowned, then started patting his pockets for his communicator.
“It’s no use. They took it,” Iskall said, his voice flat, almost like he had given up already. Admittedly, there wasn’t much they could do, except sit, wait, talk, and hope for the best. He knew the others were searching, he just didn’t know how long it would take.
“Hmm… Fat’sh… Well, bad, fen. Do we at fe very leasht know where we are?” He stood up, restlessly trying out exactly what he could still do, where he could still go, what he still had with him.
“I think we may still be in the End. Focus on your breathing for a second. The air still feels… thin, somehow, don’t you think?” Ren looked at the other two, judging their reactions. The swede frowned, tilting his head a little bit, while Python’s forked tongue shot out, tasting the air.
“Huh. I hadn’t even noticed. Then again, we’ve been out in the End for a few days already, I started getting used to it.” He stroked his beard, looking back at Ren. “It could still be some place high up in the mountains, though. Or high in the air, anyway.” Python shook his head.
“No, not in the mountainsh. It tashtesh too much like Void. I’m shaying End ash well.”
“That’s fair, I guess. I’m happy it’s at the very least not the Nether, then we’d be stuck in a bazillion degrees on top of everything.” Iskall chuckled softly at his own joke, then leaned back, hands on the floor.
It was silent for a few moments. Then Ren suddenly spoke up.
“Dudes. You know what this means, right?” The other two looked at him questioningly. “We found the place. By Endbusting. So in a way… we were right on where to search.” He laid back, his healthy arm tucked under his head as a pillow. “Just a pity we can’t rub that in the faces of the Hermits.”
A few seconds long, Iskall looked at him as though he wanted nothing more than to break Ren’s other arm as well. Then Python started giggling, and the swede followed suit. Before long, they all found themselves laughing at the irony of it all.
He blinked, unsure what to think of it. No doubt it was going to be unpleasant, though. There wasn’t really another way he could parse it. He had not expected the offer to be healed, that was almost uncharacteristically nice, so the rest would probably balance that out.
“Your… marking?” Grian looked up from under his eyebrows, trying to gauge their reaction. “What does that mean?”
Arachne let their claws dance over his wounds, making him wince.
“The little fly will find out soon enough. The offer stands. Decide.”
No way. Nope. Not gonna take it. This sounds like a trap. Too good to be true.
The spider grinned at him as he thought, waiting for his answer. Grian was about to open his mouth, but then they slowly, very slowly pressed the end of their claws into his wound. His breath hitched, and he tried pulling himself loose. Arachne’s grip on his arm was like a vice, though, and just pulling was not going to cut it. Meanwhile, the pressure kept increasing, and with it, the pain. Blood started welling up around the claws, and Grian couldn’t help but yelp.
“Let go of me!”
His feet kicked at their legs, which only resulted in them pushing down harder, forcing him to his knees.
“Decide, l i t t l e f l y, do you want to be healed yet?” Their voice grew low and dangerous, and Grian knew that he had made a very large mistake by calling them. Nevertheless, he shook his head.
“No? Are you sure about that?” In a quick motion, they pushed their claws all the way through, making them emerge from the palm of his hand.
I don’t want it I don’t want it I don’t want it I don’t want it please stop please stop please stop
The little fly cried out in pain, but Arachne did not yet have their answer. And thus, they pulled forwards, slowly but surely cutting through the flesh between his knuckles. He was whimpering, feeling every bit of the white-hot pain shoot up his nerves.
Please stop please stop please don’t hurt me please don’t hurt me more I can’t I can’t I can’t
His eyes became wet, his vision blurred by tears. He didn’t want to accept the marking, but he did desperately want to be healed. He desperately wanted for them to stop this. And as it was looking, they wouldn’t stop until they got what they wanted. Was there really any other option?
“Please... Please heal me,” he whimpered, and immediately the pulling stopped.
“Good choice, little fly.” He didn’t even want to look at the expression Arachne had on their face as they spoke. Then he felt a sharp thing stab through his sweater, piercing through the layer of skin above his heart.
For a moment, it glowed a sickly green.
And then his senses dulled. He heard himself whimper as though underwater, his vision went blurry and the pain slowly ebbed away. The last thing he knew was seeing the flesh and bone of his hand knit together again, and then he lost consciousness.
Notes:
once more, sorry grian
the next update will probably be sunday or monday cause i have a busy weekend ahead of me.
Chapter 20
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Somewhere beyond the black expanse, a scream sounded. It was a cry of pain, and while it was a distance away, they could still recognise it as Grian. The small amount of chatter that had been there died out, and Ren looked at the others with pain in his eyes.
“That was...” he started, not wanting to finish his sentence.
“Grian. He’s here.” Iskall somehow managed to sound bitter and worried at the same time. Bitter at Arachne, and worried for his friend. “ I swear, I’m going to destroy that bastard. ” He did not want to know why the builder was screaming, or how loud it had to be for them to be able to hear it. And yet, even though he didn’t want to know, his brain was supplying him with ample ideas about what could have caused it, one worse than the other.
“Ish fere anyfing we can do from here, right now?” Python lisped. “Can we let him know we’re here too?”
“We could, but then what? Pretending we’re here to rescue him will only unnecessarily get his hopes up, and telling him we’re captured too… Well. I don’t think he’d be very happy to hear that.” Ren sighed, rubbing his forehead.
“Knowing he’s not alone here could comfort him, though,” countered Iskall. “That’s what I think, at the very least.”
“That’s fair. I guess we won’t know unless we try. ”
The snakeman nodded to that, his eyes ping-ponging between his friends.
“Sho, who wantsh to do fe honorsh?”
Ren gestured to Iskall with his good hand.
“You’re closest to Grian, my man. I think he’d recognise you the most easiest.”
“I guess? Plug your ears, dudes, this will be loud.”
And then he stood up, gathering air in his lungs while the other two did their best to cover their ears.
“GRIAN! WE’RE HERE!” he shouted, his voice echoing against the walls of the room. Iskall could only hope it would be loud enough for Grian to hear it, but he would never know for sure until a response came.
And so, the three of them waited.
Seconds passed.
Then some more.
The swede looked at the other two, a silent question. Python nodded, and he filled his lungs once more.
“GRIAN?!” He somehow managed to scream louder this time, albeit not by much. He saw Ren wince at the volume for a moment, but nothing much else happened.
Once more, silence fell in the room.
Time passed.
A minute, maybe more, but no response came.
They knew where to find a desert to the south, and they also more or less knew how to bypass it in its entirety. It was so useful to be able to just dive into the Nether through a portal in the shopping district, fly a while, and then head back into the Overworld a large distance away from where they shifted dimensions the first time. It saved a lot of time, rockets, and elytra durability.
In this case, Wels, Doc, and False emerged from the portal at Stress’ Treat Your Chick ranch. The place was idyllic as always, with chickens happily clucking away in their preferred enclosures. A gentle breeze swayed the leafs of the surrounding trees, while the morning sun was doing its best to lift the beads of dew from the springy grass.
False whipped out a compass to orientate herself, while Wels was simply checking out where the sun stood before pointing in the direction that should more or less be the south. Given that their findings aligned, the trio took rockets in their hands once more and took to the skies, looking down on the plains . While False kept occasionally checking their path against her compass and the position of the sun, the boys were on lookout duty, searching for ocean and then mountains.
Plains were followed by a short bit of desert, which then became forest, interspersed with some hills here and there. Far to their right was ocean, they knew that, but they had decided to try going as south as possible without distraction, until they found the mountains Mumbo had spoken of. That was, if they existed at all. For all they knew, it could still just be a ruse, or a trap, or just meant to waste their time.
And yet, despite that possibility, they also knew they did not really have a choice but to follow the information. They needed to pretend to trust Mumbo, and hope it would not get them killed or abducted in the process. That would be quite the loss for the Hermits, and undoubtedly not a nice fate for them.
As forest turned back to desert and then to ocean, Wels broke the relative silence that the wind flowing past them provided.
“I think that it’s good to discuss some kind of strategy before we get there. Having something more to fall back on than ‘just stab the bastard’ would be nice.” His eyes continued their path, scanning the horizon for mountain peaks.
“ Hmm. True. Mumbo said he saw them going into a cave, but I don’t remember the book saying anything about that. Just that they were in the mountains. So yeah. We can’t say with certainty what to expect, which makes thinking of a strategy a tad more difficult.” False checked her compass, then slightly corrected her course.
“I’d say trying to minimize the risk for ourselves is the largest priority. We simply cannot lose more people, so that means getting out of the situation goes south,” Doc commented, letting a short silence fall before continuing at a slightly softer tone. “Of course, that does raise the issue of what to do when – no, if – someone gets in a really tight spot. How much risk can we justify taking to save each other?”
The other two were quiet for a moment, the question prickling in the air like static electricity. None of them wanted to even think about it, not really, but the possibility of having to leave someone behind was a fairly realistic one. And while they were generally quite okay with taking an arrow for someone, they also almost knew for sure that death would send them to a horrible place instead of having them respawn.
“I… Well. I don’t think we should put someone in mortal danger if there’s only a slim chance to get someone back. It’s harsh, but… We simply cannot afford to sacrifice one to save another. I will not bear a grudge if you have to leave me behind to save yourself.” Wels sounded earnest, knowing full well what he was saying. He was still focussed on the horizon, not looking at his companions. Saying things like this were difficult enough when he didn’t need to see their reactions.
“That’s fair. Of course, if at all possible we’ll come out of this together, but… I’m gonna agree with Wels. No grudges here either.” False looked over to Doc, almost expectantly.
“Same here. No grudges,” he said, before shooting off another rocket to maintain his velocity. His eyes were on the horizon, scanning to and fro before focussing on a specific spot in the distance. Some mechanical noises sounded, and the cyborg frowned briefly. “I think it’s over there. At the very least, there’s mountains.”
The other two looked in the direction he was pointing in, but saw nothing but ocean and the occasional island.
“Uh… Where, exactly?” False asked, squinting her eyes to try and see it too but not succeeding. Doc was cheating with that robotic eye of his, she was sure of it, but she couldn’t say anything about it. In cases like this, it was very useful to have.
“Just… Trust me. They’re there.”
“Alrighty then. Lead the way.”
The trio turned to the south-west, spamming some rockets to speed up. And indeed, before long mountains loomed over the horizon, a stormy grey against the blue sky. Their tops went quite high up, so high that they could spot snowy peaks here and there. From this distance, the biome looked small enough, but they all knew that things that were small in the distance could still be really quite big when encountered up close.
“ That seems like a place that fits the description,” Wels commented. “Let’s check it out from the sky as best as we can, and only after that try and find a cave that a large spider could fit into. Any objections?”
Doc and False shook their head, and the latter took out her communicator. She exchanged a look with the others, and then started typing the words that for all they knew would spring a trap.
<FalseSymmetry> We’ve found the mountains.
<FalseSymmetry> I’ll keep you all updated.
Had they been looking carefully enough, they would have known that something had been gradually changing . More specifically, the mobs had. The ratio between endermen, creepers, zombies, skeletons and spiders at night had been shifting ever so slowly in the favour of spiders. One by one, cobwebs had started appearing everywhere, spread out over the various districts and bits of nature. The spiders themselves… those changed too. Careful observation would reveal them to be a little bit greener than they used to be, and the creatures occasionally appeared to be just observing, instead of going about and doing their own thing.
Not that the Hermits noticed. They had larger issues at hand, other things that needed their attention. The few that stayed up at night generally spent it underground, in the bunker, looking at footage of drones or at the clues on the wall. Not one of them thought that observing the local wildlife was a good way to spend time.
And perhaps, that was a mistake.
Notes:
aaaand i'm back people!
i'd like to say thank you to everyone that has been reading this so far, it's really nice to see how many people are enjoying the stuff i scribble down ^^
Chapter 21
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
After calling out for ten minutes, they still did not have their answer. Whether that was because Grian didn’t hear them or because he wasn’t able to answer was the next question, and it was one they would not be able to answer from where they were. And so , they did decide to stop calling, and try it again at a later moment in time.
W ith a sigh, Iskall sat down once more, his throat sore from calling Grian’s name. He gathered his legs in his arms, resting his chin on his knees as he looked at the others. He just hoped his friend was safe and doing okay, but given what that monster had done to the three of them in the span of a few hours… He wasn’t too sure how four days in their care would have marked Grian. Perhaps something had also been taken from him, as had been done to the three of them, perhaps it didn’t.
A sigh rolled over his lips. If this room was good for anything, it was for overthinking things. There was simply no way that you wouldn’t eventually fall into a spiralling train of thoughts of the pessimistic kind, and it was way too easy to give in to that. Had there been any kind of distraction available, something to build with or to play with or to do anything with, it would be easier. At the very least he wasn’t alone, and he could lean on the other two when the going got tough.
“So, does anyone have any good stories?”
Ever so slowly, his eyes fluttered open. How much time had passed since he passed out, he wasn’t able to say. Could have been seconds, could have been minutes, could have been longer still. With a soft groan he rubbed his eyes, then propped himself up a little bit, looking around. The room was bright black as it was before, but he knew something had changed. What, though, that was the question. For the first time in days he felt remarkably fine, perhaps too fine for the situation. Hadn’t Arachne just ripped his hand to pieces?
He frowned, his eyes shifting to his hands, half expecting it all to have been a dream. One of them had blood all over it, but that was the only thing revealing that something had indeed happened. His skin looked untouched, and poking at it didn’t hurt at all. Then why did the sight of his hands and bare arms look… wrong?
Grian squinted, turning his hands over to inspect them from all sides. As he looked closer, he figured out two things that were not quite right. First, the colour was off. The blueish purple of his veins seemed to have switched to a dull green, like a week-old bruise. It made him look paler than he actually was. Secondly, he missed the long red sleeves of his sweater. While torn and tattered, he had still been wearing that.
Only now did he really look at himself. His sweater had gone, replaced by a long, dark green coat without sleeves. A few hook-and-eye closures kept it together at his waist, and the lower edges would touch his knees if he stood. The fabric seemed roughly spun, catching the light like layer over layer of cobwebs would. It was quite comfortable, though, even allowing his wings to go through. The downside was that there no longer was soft fabric between his neck and the collar, but he could work his way past that
As he looked down, he could spot something on the left side of his chest as well. Clear lines, venomous green contrasting sharply with pale skin. They disappeared under his coat, and as he moved it aside, he found a stylised image of a spider over his heart.
His stomach dropped, and the little fly swallowed. He didn’t need to ask to know that this was Arachne’s marking. After all, what else could it be? A little shiver went through him, and a small part of his mind whispered that he had nothing to fear, that this was how everything should be. It made his eyebrows knit together as he shook the thought out of his head.
No. No, no, no, that’s wrong. This marking is wrong, and I should most definitely fear Arachne. They’re insane. I shouldn’t even consider thinking otherwise.
Grian quickly brushed over the lines a few times, half-hoping that that would remove them. When that didn’t work, he tried rubbing them away, much to the same conclusion. He was relieved disappointed about it, but there wasn’t much he could do.
And so he tugged the coat back into place, then stood up to stretch his legs a little. Once more, he looked around, and this time he spotted the plate of food and the bucket of water standing a few meters away. His stomach rumbled. He licked his lips, then confusion overtook him.
Why… why am I licking my lips, as if I actually want to eat that? I don’t. It’s horrible. Just… What is going on here?
He found himself blinking at the plate, not entirely trusting his mind. Had Arachne somehow messed with that too, or…? Grian could barely imagine them doing tha-
YES, YES I CAN! They most definitely would! Shut up, mind, shut up, I’m in control here. Not the spidery bastard.
Exhaling forcefully, he once again tried banning any and all pro-Arachne thoughts out of his head. Those most definitely didn’t have a place there, after everything they had done to him. Despite his best efforts, though, a few pockets of resistance remained, tucked away in the dark corners of his mind.
He grabbed a few fistfuls of hair and closed his eyes, repeating a whispered mantra.
“They are evil, do not trust them. They are evil, do not trust them. They are evil, do not trust them. Whatever they say, do not trust them. They are evil.”
After a while, he once again inhaled, then exhaled, letting go of his hair and opening his eyes. Grian looked at the food, then decided to just go for it. Better to be over it and have something in his stomach,
delicious
disgusting as it may be.
He walked over to it, then sat down cross-legged. Without allowing himself a second thought, he started scooping the food into his mouth with his unbloodied hand.
This time, it didn’t even taste half bad.
Back in the bunker, quite a few of the Hermits were sitting in the room with the clues on the wall. Xisuma had wisely taken down the copy of the ransom note, putting it in his inventory for now. It would simply not do to have Mumbo see that they had that. It could throw off their entire plan, so it was best if he didn’t know that anyone else had been in his secret room. They couldn’t have him upping the security, or taking a closer look at that area. Not yet.
And so they were sitting around the table, all of them with their communicators in their hands, every so often looking at them nervously. There had been an update when the scouting party had gotten to the mountains, and not much after that. Some coordinates on where to find the biome, which Stress copied for on the plywood wall. A few observations, which would need the context of the mountains before they were useful. Nothing for a while, in which they stole glances at each other, the same hopes and fears reflected in their faces.
The communicators buzzed in sync, like a choir of bees taking off, and a few seconds later the sound came twice more. The first one was a set of coordinates again. The other two… those were the messages they had been waiting for.
<FalseSymmetry> We found a cave with cobwebs
<FalseSymmetry> Surroundings seem clear, we’re going in!
She put her communicator away, taking a look at Doc and Wels. They had switched their elytra for enchanted chestplates, their weapons of choice in their one hand and a shield in the other. Just seconds before, they had all chugged their night vision potions, so they wouldn’t have to bother with torches.
“Well guys, this is it. Let’s get in there and show that bug who’s boss,” False spoke with a grin, but her eyes betrayed a sliver of fear for what was to come. The trio exchanged a last set of fistbumps, before Wels nodded and took point, the other two following in his footsteps.
They walked slowly into the cave, wary of traps and tripwire. A dismal aura hung in the air, and it wasn’t helped by the small spiders that were most definitely looking at them from their webs. A shiver went down False’s spine, and Doc’s hold on his trident tightened, but Wels kept pushing forwards. The sooner they’d reach the end of the cave, the sooner they would be able to get out again.
One thing they all noticed was a distinct lack of hostile mobs. Despite the darkness, they could hear nor see any of the undead shuffling around, and no creepers tried blowing themselves up in their faces. Even the spiders were peaceful, which only made the feeling that they were walking right into a trap worse. Just token resistance would have calmed their nerves by quite a lot, but there was none.
Instead, they were able to just waltz on through, deeper and deeper into the bowels of the earth. The air cooled down, then warmed back up again as they came closer to the layer of bedrock and lava that formed the lower boundary of the world. Still, nothing tried attacking them, although the layer of cobwebs on the wall became thicker and thicker. There were more spiders here as well, and still, all of them were staring at them.
“How deep does this even go?” Doc asked the air, knowing full well that neither of his companions would know the answer. And yet, an answer came. None of them recognised the voice, and they couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from, but it was there.
“Just a little bit further, little flies.”
Notes:
i hope this was all readable cause nothing was beta read (like the rest of this fic) and ive been sporting a fever while writing this chapter (not like the rest of this fic)
anyways, as always y'all are welcome to scream at me both here and on tumblr (@fluid-quartz)
Chapter 22
Notes:
TW for graphic depictions of violence, starting at "Formation!" and ending at "At one point, he even was able to start stepping forwards"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Immediately, Doc and Wels took on fighting stances, while False took out her communicator to type a very quick message.
<FalseSymmetry> theyre here
Then her communicator went back into her pocket, and she, too, took on a fighting stance. She shot a glance to the other two, and then nodded. Her grip on her sword tightened, her knuckles whitening. The bastard was here, and the three of them would show them why they shouldn’t mess with the Hermits.
Wels looked over his shoulder, then made a gesture with his sword to start moving deeper into the cave. His stance lowered, and he once more started pressing forwards with balanced, strong steps. Anything that would come at them would have to go through him first, but he was confident enough in his fighting skills that the thought didn’t unsettle him. Besides, even if he was the first to be attacked, he knew the other two would cover him.
Deeper and deeper still they went, until the tunnel opened up further to reveal a large cavern. The walls, ceiling and floor were entirely covered in thick layers of cobwebs, and a soft glow illuminated the area. Had the spiders in the tunnels been small, here they were large, larger even than the ones that regularly terrorised the surface at night. Their red eyes were still mostly focussed on them, but also on some point on the ceiling.
With his shield in front of him, Wels halted, feeling False and Doc come up to form his flanks. His eyes first quickly scanned through the cave, and only then got drawn up to the ceiling. The first thing he noticed was the large creature hanging upside down in the centre of the room, not quite a spider and not quite anything else either. Their carapace shone green in the glow, eyes twinkling a scarlet red.
“Welcome, little flies. Welcome to my web.” The voice was not pleasant in any definition of the word, and it made False and Doc look up too.
“Get down here, you bastard!” the former just yelled, inciting something that was probably a mocking laugh from the spider-like creature. The cyborg, on the other hand, lightly tossed his trident up, catching it once more to change his grip on the weapon. Then he launched it out of his hand with all the strength he could muster, aiming for the torso of the monster.
Arachne barely had time to respond, but it was enough to be able to lightly shift on the web, making the attack miss. As if by magic, the trident disappeared and reappeared in Doc’s hand once more.
“Oh? The little fly wants to play? That can be arranged...” Their voice dipped down, with some murderous undertones woven through it. And somehow amusement as well. As though this all was nothing more than a game to them. And perhaps it was.
“Get them.” The words almost sounded like a hissed growl, and the spiders in the room reacted. Gone was their focus on the ceiling. Instead, all eyes turned to the puny humans that had just entered their cave, and without a second of hesitation, they came down from their webs, rushing at the trio.
“Formation!” Wels barked out, and the other two got ready for the fight.
Then the spiders descended on them in a tangle of mandibles and claws and legs. With their three shields they managed to keep them at enough distance to be able to swing their swords, glistering with the magic of enchantment.
False was hacking and slashing at all of the arachnids that came at them from the left, while Doc protected their right flank. Wels had to take the brunt of the attacks. The good thing was that there were simply so many enemies that it didn’t matter where they were stabbing at. At one point or another, their blades and trident would connect with a carapace, and pierce straight through.
Spiders were hissing in pain, trying to get close enough to bite them with mandibles almost the size of their hands. The weapons of the Hermits were enough to cut them down quickly, but wherever one spider fell, two more took its place, and soon, they felt their shields becoming heavy as spiders clung to them.
When Doc noticed that, he simply took his arm from the straps, and kicked the shield away from him. He fought better with his trident in two hands anyway. There was a satisfying crunch as the spider on his shield went splat between the wood and the floor, and the cyborg spun his trident around, stabbing with the teeth here and ramming the blunt edge against a head there.
False, meanwhile, was spewing out a stream of creative insults Joe would be proud of as she kept attacking. This could very well be a life or death situation, and she rather stayed at the side of the living. If calling out profanity towards her enemies helped her do so, she gladly thought of a few new curses. Her blade swung through the air as she dismembered spider after spider, their dying forms twitching at her feet.
During all of this, Wels managed to keep up his classical knight image. He fought bravely and fairly, delivering a mercy blow to any that had fallen within his reach. His sword and shield were his partners in a deadly dance, his feet moving forwards and backwards with the rhythm of the fight. Splatters of green blood covered his otherwise shining armour, and a look of determination was on his face. He knew the spiders would run out at some point, and when that happened, they would bring down the one that had captured their friends as well. This would end today.
Next to him, he could hear False grunt in pain as a set of mandibles managed to sneak past her shield, biting down on her arm. While her armour took the brunt of the attack, there were still some bits that were covered less well, and venom entered her system. She was quick enough to behead the creature, but she was the first one of the scouting party that was bleeding. Her vision blurred slightly, and she wobbled on her legs, but she kept going. There was a lot of anger written on her face now, brows furrowed and teeth bared in a growl. She had this. She still had this.
At the other side of their little line, the situation was quite different. Doc was right in the middle of being an actual blender, with the speed at which his trident moved. Bits of spider fell to the floor, their blood barely visible on his green skin but quite striking on virtually any other part of him. An end even started to get in sight, with the pile of dead arachnids on the floor being larger than the wave of spiders that were still moving.
At one point, he even was able to start stepping forwards slowly but surely without endangering the other two. He was panting slightly, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. On the contrary, he had barely ever felt more alive than this.
Wels looked at Doc with a squint, just knowing what would come next.
“Doc, don’t. First solve this problem, then-”
“Is that all you got?!” the cyborg exclaimed, heeding no mind to what Wels was trying to say and raising his trident to Arachne once more. They just started to chuckle, though.
“The little fly is impatient. That too can be fixed.”
This time, instead of words, they made a hand motion, and something started coming into view from one of the corners of the cavern. Something pink and yellow and dark green, carrying two mean-looking swords. Something they all recognised. Something they knew they could not defeat, not even if they wanted to.
Doc cursed loudly, then looked over at Wels, who was already sprinting forwards, jumping over the corpses of slain spiders, ever the brave knight.
“Go! I’ll hold him off and cover your retreat!” His voice didn’t even waver as he put down his shield, ready to block whatever would come at him.
“You can’t, Wels! He’s too strong!” False sounded afraid, and righteously so.
“I know, just… Just go! Go! No grudges!” The first blow of the diamond sword hit his shield, and Wels had to really dig his feet into the ground to keep standing. Above him, the spider-like creature looked as though this was the most amusing thing they had seen in a while.
False stood almost locked in place as she watched her friend fight, not wanting to leave. Doc grabbing her hand broke that spell, though.
“Let’s move! Don’t let this be in vain.”
Together, they started running, away from the cobwebs, out of the cave. They could only hope that they would see Wels again on the outside. And hope they did.
In the bunker, the Hermits were waiting for the next message on the edge of their chairs. Any and all idle chatter had died down minutes ago, when False’s message had come in. They had no idea about the situation other than that apparently, the scouting party had encountered the spidery bastard.
Suddenly, all communicators buzzed at the same time, and the group warily looked over at Xisuma. He very slowly turned on the screen, then they saw the blood drain from his face.
And then he cursed. Something he never did, unless something was really, really, really wrong.
>> Welsknight was slain by Biffa2001
Notes:
aint that a twist?
also, sorry wels
Chapter 23
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
As he woke up, he immediately moved his hands in front of him, ready to block the next attack with his shield. Except he wasn’t wearing a shield. His sword had gone too, as did his diamond armour. The only things remaining were the padded gambeson he had been wearing under his armour, his underclothing, and his communicator, safely tucked away in his pocket. Biffa was gone too, no longer there. He died, then?
Wels looked around, getting to his feet as fast as he could. This wasn’t his room, and it wasn’t his bed. The walls were dark, with cobwebs in the corners. He had woken up on some kind of altar structure, hewn from a black rock. The green glow of runes on its edges slowly dimmed away as he found his bearings, and a twilight overtook the room. It did seem like no one was there, which was probably a good thing. The question was when someone would get there, be it the spider or Biffa or someone else entirely.
He gently breathed out, calming down. Rational thought and tactics would help him here. He had this. First things first: getting out of this room. There was not much in here, asides from a stack of metal bands in one of the corners and some red stains on the altar . Nothing he could use as a weapon. At the very least the place had a clear door, made of what looked like spruce wood, or perhaps dark oak.
“Alright, Wels, let’s get moving. Find a weapon, the others, and an exit. Preferably in that order,” he whispered to himself, creating the beginnings of a plan in his head. He was in an enemy base, so he’d need to be very careful when moving around. First things first, though. He was here, and he had a way of communicating. He took out his communicator and switched it to its coordinate view, memorising the numbers. He wasn’t too sure which dimension he was in, but there were only three of them, so that probably didn’t matter that much.
Then he opened up his private messages, navigating to the conversation he had been having with Xisuma earlier. Whether these were safe from enemy influence, he wasn’t sure, but it was better than the group chat.
<Welsknight> I probably don’t have much time.
<Welsknight> I respawned, and I have coordinates.
<Welsknight> 3986, -2612, dimension not sure.
<xisumavoid> Wels! Are you safe?
<Welsknight> Probably not. No one is here yet, but I don’t know when they will be.
<Welsknight> I’m going to try to get out of here now, speak to you later.
<xisumavoid> Keep us updated, and be safe!
<Welsknight> I’ll try.
He put his communicator on silent, then put it away once more. Having the thing go off while he was sneaking through here was not something he wanted to happen.
And so he went and opened the door to a small crack. The knight peered through, observing the hallway beyond it. That, too, had dark walls, though they were partially obscured by cobwebs. A gentle glow illuminated the space, enough to lift the twilight a little bit. Some spiders skittered around here and there, moving amongst the webs with ease. There was no sign of the larger creature, though, not yet. While it was a good thing, it also slightly unnerved him. Wels hated not knowing where his enemy was, and them sneaking up on him. It went against everything he stood for as a knight. A fight was supposed to be fair, and it should follow the rules of combat. One of those was to fight openly, so it was clear who was an enemy and who was a friend.
Breathe in, breathe out. Be calm, then go for it. He felt the effects of adrenalin starting to course through his veins, and then he opened the door far enough for him to slip through.
Wels found himself in the hallway, it stretching out to the left and to the right. On the left side was another doorway, with winding stairs descending down into darkness. On the right side, the hallway turned a corner. There were openings in the walls here and there, doorless doorways by the looks of things. The question was which way would be the way out, and how far away that would be from the others. If they were here at all, that was. For all he knew they could be miles and miles away.
Judging by his goals, he needed to find a weapon of sorts first, so checking out the other rooms on this level seemed like a good idea. Wels crossed the hallway, almost diving into the first opening he could reach. Inside, the walls were covered in web as well, and at a few places there were even webs spanning between the floor and the ceiling in the middle of the room. Multiple shapes, too small to be human, were hanging from the spider silk, encapsulated in layers and layers of thread. A shiver went through his spine. Wels didn’t want to think about the possibility of any of his friends being in that position, but he couldn’t help it. Would they have felt it, if they were wrapped up? Would they have been scared, desperate, trying to escape their fate? Or had they already died before it happened, and were these just the corpses that stayed behind? The knight frankly did not know, and perhaps he just didn’t want to know.
He looked around the room one last time, before deciding there was nothing of importance in there and getting back into the hallway. Quick glances into the other open rooms on the level simply revealed more webs filled with wrapped up packets in various shapes and sizes. Almost like stockrooms of some sort. What remained were the places where the hallway turned out of his sight.
Wels looked one way, then the other, and decided to go downstairs first. Assuming a classical layout, prisoners would be kept in the dungeons, and dungeons were generally underground. One last time, he checked if no one was watching, then he quietly ran to the stairs, his socks muffling the sound of his footsteps. Of course his diamond boots had also gone. At this moment, though, he didn’t care much about that, it was probably even better that he wasn’t wearing anything that would clank and give away his position. Was it very knightly to sneak? No, definitely not, but it was going to help him stay alive a little bit longer.
As much as he wanted to cling to the walls, though, Wels also knew that that was probably a bad idea with the amount of cobwebs on them. If the spiders didn’t try and attack him for disturbing their webs, it would certainly leave a trail of broken threads that would lead anyone straight to him. That would be… less than optimal.
I n any case. Stairs. He stuck to the inner curve of the staircase, so he could most easily put wall between him and possible enemies. As he walked further down, though, he didn’t encounter anything except more tiny spiders in their webs. All of them had that same green carapace as the large bastard had, and he briefly wondered if these were their spawn. He hoped not. The Hermits already had trouble enough dealing with just this one.
Meters lower than he started, the light was back to the same twilight of the room with the altar, perhaps even a tad darker. And why wouldn’t it be? He was pretty sure spiders could see in the dark, they didn’t need the light. It made things a little bit more difficult for him, but he saw enough to be able to keep going. This level only had a long hallway, with empty doorways on both sides.
And from one of the ones furthest away, he heard the faintest murmur. Someone talking.
“- and so I told him, it’s called Bumbo Cactoni. You should’ve seen his face, dudes. Mouth opening and closing as if he was a fish on land, with a very confused look on his face. I really thought he would punch me there and then, and then Mumbo just started laughing. Like, hands on his knees and wheezing, laughing harder every time he looked at the building. Ahhh… Fun times, fun times.” A soft smile was on Iskalls face as he spoke, a feeling of yearning back to simpler times washing over him. Things were easier, then. Friendlier.
Ren looked at the floor, picking at his nails a little while listening. They all knew the saga of the various Bumbos that had appeared in the previous world they inhabited, and also some in their current one. Still, it was a nice story. One that could drag them away from their grim reality for a few minutes.
He involuntarily rubbed the metal collar, thinking about the freedom that laid beyond the infinite walls. About the hippy encampment, about his dojo, about the HRN, about his base. About soaring through the air with his elytra, about swimming amongst coral reefs, about digging through the earth, about sitting on a hill and looking at the night sky. All things he wanted to do, once he got out of here and his arm was healed.
As Iskall leaned back, content with the story he had told, Ren went to lay down on his back, looking at the ceiling.
Then his ears caught something. A sound he was not expecting, not here. He immediately sat back up again. It was soft and gentle, coming from beyond the walls. Someone… singing?
“Do you hear the people sing, singing a song of angry men...”
Notes:
a note in advance: im not sure when the next chapter will be ready. it may be thursday or friday, but it could very well be sunday or monday.
in any case, come yell at me! theories, frustrations, whatever, it's all welcome <3
tumblr: fluid-quartz
Chapter 24
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The death message had been their cue to flee. Or well, that’s what Doc’s opinion was. False wanted nothing more than to storm back in and knock some sense and revenge into Biffa and the spider, even though she knew that that was basically suicide. It had taken Doc a considerable amount of coaxing and physically dragging to get them out of there, but in the end he had succeeded. They had flown off, going vaguely north but not entirely in order to create as much distance as possible.
The remainder of the scouting party flew without looking back, until they had reached Zedaph’s pyramid base. Only there did they land, and only then did False allow herself to be angry.
“How DARE they use our own friends against us?! First Mumbo, now Biffa, what is that bastard’s problem? What are they even trying to get out of this?” She paced up and down one of the sides, gesturing wildly with her arms as she did so. Her eyes spelled bloody murder for the first arachnid that was unwise enough to get within her range. Doc just watched in silence, sitting on the edge of the building.
“Do they just enjoy seeing us suffer? Is that it? Is that why they are just killing and abducting us? We never did anything wrong to them! Nothing at all!” False kicked at the sand, then sighed and covered her face with her hands, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips.
“Poor Wels. I just hope he’s okay.” Her volume had gone down drastically, her voice barely more than a whisper. Doc hopped down from his ledge and walked up to her, laying his non-mechanical hand on her shoulder.
“He will be, it’s Wels. We’ll get him back, just you wait.”
Mumbo had quietly walked out of the meeting. He couldn’t be there, he couldn’t stand the look on the faces of the others. While he doubted they knew, there was something in their eyes that blamed him for what had happened. And he blamed himself for it as well. Because of him, the scouting party had gone out. Because of him, Wels had died. Because of him, they were still inside, anxious to hear from False or Doc.
If only he had been brave enough to try and defy that asshole, it all would not have happened. He had made the choice to go along with it, in the hopes of shielding Grian from harm, but where had that brought them? Just another casualty. Had it really been worth it?
His legs had taken him into Sahara, up the water elevator and then to the board room. It was empty, so empty. The scale of the building didn’t make him feel less small either. Their chairs, ridiculous wooden structures that got bigger every time they had a meeting, stood unused, and the parrots were quietly squawking and flapping around when they noticed him. The animals seemed to have noticed that something was wrong, if only because of the fact that someone else had been feeding them over the past few days, and there hadn’t been music either. Sitting on their branches, they looked at him, heads bobbing up and down and cocking left to right.
With a sigh, he went through the door in the glass, just sitting down in the middle of the small aviary. Some of the birds hopped closer, pecking at his pockets for some seeds. Mumbo just observed them.
It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have told them to go. It’s my fault. All of it. I’m so sorry, Wels.
He pulled his knees closer, hugging them with his arms as he looked at the birds. They didn’t seem to notice what was up with him, and one flapped up to land on his arm. It squawked something that sounded remarkably like “Saaaand?”, and Mumbo felt his eyes begin to tear up.
Why me? Why do I have to do this, why am I suddenly the one that steers the fate of my friends? What else have I done that only makes things worse for everyone? That spawner, what effect did that have? The stone in the well, is that poor village now as broken as I am?
His shoulders started shaking, and a sob escaped his throat. He hadn’t wanted any of this. He just wanted everyone to be safe and together and healthy, he just wanted to build his projects and play games with the others and pull pranks and just have fun. Why was it all being taken away by that spidery bastard?
He briefly looked at Iskall, then at Python and then at the walls. He recognised that voice, but where was it coming from?
“It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again...”
It seemed to get closer as well, from just beyond the inky blackness.
“Wels! In here!” He scrambled to his feet, hoping for the knight to be here to save them. From the corner of his eye, Ren saw the other two get up as well, torn from their daydreams of freedom and ready to experience the real deal again.
“When the beating of your heart matches the beating of the drums...”
The trio stood on their slabs, eyes and ears pointed in the direction of the sound. It was steadily getting louder, both because it got closer and because the one singing put more of his voice behind it. Mostly the former, though.
“There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes~.”
And then Wels came phasing through the void wall, as though it wasn’t even there. He seemed slightly worried and looked weirdly naked without his armour on. Pacing over to them, he started speaking.
“Guys! Thank God, I found you!” Worry was complemented with abhorrence as the knight looked over the trio, spotting their various injuries and missing parts. “What did that monster do to you? Are you guys okay?”
Iskall was the first to shake his head.
“We woke up like this, so I’m not sure, but… they broke Ren’s arm later. Just because he tried to defend himself.” He shivered. “They literally tried to eat him, Wels.”
The tension and silence were palpable. Ren’s eyes went to the ground, hugging himself and gently rubbing his thumb over his arm. The memory of being picked up by that creature was still clear in his mind, as well as how close he had been to a horrible death.
“They what?” The knight spoke in disbelief, his words accented with hints of anger. “I’m going to get you guys out of here. Can I take a look at these?” He gestured at the collars they were all wearing. Python nodded.
“Yesh, of courshe! Jusht… Hurry. If Arachne findsh out you’re here-”
“They already know. They had Biffa kill me.” He paced over to the snakeman and started poking at the metal band, looking at it from every angle he could. “We figured out dying makes us respawn here. We thought-”
“Wait, wait, wait. Hold up there. Biffa?! Didn’t he like… Move to another world, or something?” Iskall had a frown on his face, confused about the situation. Wels shook his head.
“That’s what we though too, but apparently… it seems like he was the first to get abducted, by the looks of things. He just… he let himself be ordered around by that bastard, and he barely even recognised me. If he did at all.”
W els let his thumb go over the band, trying to find where the seams and the lock were. If he couldn’t find those, getting them off would be an issue. He didn’t even have tools with him, so he couldn’t just hack out the other point the collar was connected to either. It was frustrating and stressing, but he tried anyway.
“If they have Biffa too… That complicates things. Like, majorly. How many of us did we need to stop him the last time he went on a head hunt? Six, including the redstoners that built the trap of doom?”
“Yep. And even then people died multiple times,” Ren supplied, as Wels squinted at the collar.
“This isn’t going to work. It’s like the seam just… Vanished. I’m gonna update X on this.” He took out his communicator, and the Endbusters looked at it as though they saw water burning.
“You… Shtill have fat? Did fey not take it from you?” Python lisped, and Wels shrugged.
“Apparently not. Then again, I haven’t seen anyone else since coming here.” His thumbs were flying over the keys as he typed out a message to Xisuma.
<Welsknight> Endbusters found. I can’t break them out, there’s metal collars and no tools/locks/ weak points .
<Welsknight> They’re on the lowest level, last door on the right.
<Welsknight> I’ll send more updates when I know more.
Without waiting for a response, he shoved the communicator back in his pocket.
“I sent X our coordinates, so a rescue mission should get here soon.” Wels looked around, knowing what he had to do next according to his plan. “Will you guys be okay here for a little bit longer? I’m going to have to try to find Grian and the exit next.”
Ren nodded slowly.
“Probably, as long as they don’t know we’ve spoken to you I guess. An hour more shouldn’t matter.”
“What Ren said, basically. Just… Take care, okay?” Iskall did his best to smile encouragingly at the knight, who nodded and gave them all a hug.
“I will. You guys, don’t lose hope. The Hermits are coming this way, they’ll get you out.” There was determination in his eyes as he turned back towards the wall through which he had come in. He was going to make sure they got out. All of them, Biffa and Grian included.
And so he walked to the wall, looking over his shoulder one last time before going through. Wels crossed the little antechamber, then peeked around the corner of the main doorway to check if the hallway was safe.
“There you are."
Notes:
the chapter is messy but oh well. expect the next one sunday or monday
Also, things I've learnt from this chapter: trains wait for no one, especially not for fanfic writers who just want to quickly upload before leaving for the weekend
Chapter 25
Notes:
TW for violence and death, starting at "A fraction that was just too much.". It's safe to continue reading from the start of the next perspective.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ever so briefly, he thought he heard someone singing beyond the walls. Softly, with words he couldn't quite distinguish. He caught himself standing still, listening to it, but it stopped just as suddenly as it started. Instead, there was just silence, and the beating of his heart.
Writing it off as a figment of his imagination was easy. This was not a place for song and dance. Far from it. It had to have been the wind, or an echo of sorts. For a moment longer, he looked at the wall, then shook his head. Probably nothing, then.
The little fly stepped off the slabs and started gently stretching as best as he could. Movement was good, and just sitting or laying around was hell on his back. Besides, what else could he do? He started by stretching out his arms as far above his head as he could, standing on the tips of his toes as he breathed in. Then he breathed out and bent over, trying to touch the ground. His fingers barely brushed the floor, but that was okay. It was better than the last time he had tried, and progress was still progress.
From there on, he followed up with stretches of the other parts of his body, making them more difficult as he went along. Grian rejoiced in every little victory he made, every centimetre more he managed. It was the only thing he was winning at in here, and he needed some more positivity in his life. Of course, there was not much to complain about in here, but-
Shut up! Bad brain, baaaaad brain.
He gritted his teeth and knitted his eyebrows together. The little pockets of pro-Arachne thoughts had grown larger, and so far he hadn’t been able to stop it. It was beyond frustrating, knowing that at the very least part of his mind had been influenced in a way he couldn’t control. For a short moment, he focussed on those things that made him him, to try and ban out the other thoughts. His wonky builds, his pranks, his choice in palette. His favourite colour, the weather he liked best, the flowers he liked weaving into a crown. His friends, the way he flew, Arachne, his favourite places to be.
Grian sighed, and returned to his stretching. Eventually, he’d get his thoughts back in line. Eventually, Arachne would let him go. He just needed to sit here and wait. It was all fine.
Minutes later, he heard a yelp coming from beyond the walls, followed by the very muffled sounds of a struggle. Halting in the middle of a movement, he cocked his head to the side, listening closer. There was another yelp, softer this time, and he was sure that something was up outside of his room cell.
What is going on out there? Is someone there to get me out? Why would they- NO, DON’T QUESTION IT! Someone’s there, call out for them!
He stood up, moving in the direction of the sound as well as he could.
“HEY! IN HERE, I’M IN HERE!” he shouted, just hoping that this wouldn’t backfire in any way. Then again, no one told him he couldn’t shout, and no one was stopping him.
The sudden shouting from somewhere to his right distracted him a little bit as he was running away from the creature. He felt blood trickling down his leg, where the thing had tried to grab him, and a patch of his gambeson was missing, torn away by mandibles that couldn’t get a proper grip on his shoulder. Wels’ heart skipped a beat as he realised Grian was here as well, somewhere close even.
And his heart broke as he realised he had no time to look for him. Not if he wanted to live and escape. The spider was hot on his heels, going any way that did not lead to the exit would inevitably mean exit for him.
“I KNOW, I’M SORRY!” he called back, as he ran right past the source of the shouting and back towards the stairs. Behind him, he heard the rapid tapping of feet on the floor, still close, too close for comfort, and he threw a glance over his shoulder. They were right behind him, face twisted in some kind of grin, and a hint of something bad glistering in their eyes.
It prompted Wels to try and run faster. It helped that he no longer had to carry the weight of his armour with him, but not much. He created a little bit more distance between himself and his pursuer, but he still needed to climb a staircase at full speed. Possibly even more than one, even, and this place… He wasn’t too sure what caused it, but the air was too thin. With every breath he took, he had the feeling that it just didn’t contain enough of the blessed element that was oxygen for him to keep running like he was for very long.
And then the staircase happened. The knight ran up two steps at a time, keeping close to the inner turn, while the spidery bastard had shifted onto the very same wall. By the sound of their movement, they were catching up with him once more, and fast at that.
Internally, Wels was cursing. This wasn’t good at all. Not in the slightest. He jumped up the last step, launching himself forwards into the hallway to keep his momentum going. He had to. And yet, it wasn’t enough. The stairs made his legs complain, and he lost a fraction of his speed.
A fraction that was just too much.
Half a second later, he felt fangs sink into the unprotected flesh of his neck. He knew he screamed, he knew he tried to hit the spider-like creature, he knew his vision got woozy.
He knew he was deeper in trouble, and he knew there was something in his veins that should not be in there.
And then he knew nothing, as his mind sunk into darkness and his body sagged to the floor, before fading out of existence.
Preparations to fly out were in full swing, down in the bunker. Stress was arranging godarmour together with Impulse, while Xisuma had teamed up with Scar and Cub to figure out a way to guarantee safe respawns once more. Furnaces were blazing, filled with coal and meat, and the rapid clicking of a carrot farm echoed through the tunnels like a hyperactive clock. Keralis, Tango and Zedaph had taken it upon themselves to roll as many rockets as they could, and TFC was pointing people to where they could find the things they needed. Cleo and Jevin were on guard duty, mostly on the lookout for False and Doc. When and if those two would return wasn’t clear, and while no one had said a word about it, they wanted them to be there before they left.
It was as though only Joe had noticed the absence of Mumbo. The poet had been looking around for the redstoner, wanting to make sure that everything was okay with him, but he couldn’t find him in the bunker. It made him frown. Where else could the man be? At his base, somewhere in the shopping district, in the Nether?
His communicator buzzed once as he took it out. His frown grew deeper. There was nothing in the script around this time, and he was quite sure that most of the Hermits had taken to private messages only. Dread sunk in his stomach as he turned the screen on, and he stopped in his tracks.
>> Welsknight was slain by Arachne
He knew Wels had somehow managed to not get captured immediately, but it seemed his luck had run out. An involuntary shiver raised the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck, and his gaze dropped away from his communicator. He didn’t want to see the message, he didn’t want to be reminded of the suffering of his friends. And yet, did he really have a choice? It was also a reminder of what they were fighting for.
Joe ran a hand through his hair, pushing his dark curls back before putting his communicator back in his pocket. Then he blinked, and took it back out. Right. Mumbo. That was what he was doing. He opened up his private messages, and started typing a new one.
<joehillssays> Where are you at, Mumbo? I couldn’t find you in the bunker, and I’m getting worried.
He stared at the screen, wishing an answer would come soon.
He felt a pang of hurt in his chest as he heard the answer. Wels was there, no doubt, and yet… he didn’t even come to get the little fly out. He knew, and he left him here, by himself once more. His hands dropped to his sides, and he slowly fell to his knees.
See? They’re not coming for you.
“They… they will. They have to, don’t they...?” He knew there had to be some reason for Wels not to come look, but what it was?
They don’t care for you. You are not important to them. There is someone that does think you’re important, though.
“The Hermits do care. I- I know they do.” His voice was soft, barely more than token resistance at this point.
Then why did Wels leave? Just admit it. He doesn’t care.
Grian crossed his arms before his chest, hugging himself. His thoughts had a point. Perhaps it was indeed just Arachne that cared, if only because he was the key to their plan. The little fly blinked a few times, feeling like he should cry but not actually doing so. He felt empty instead, his emotions cushioned away.
He looked up, eyes filled with apathy.
“Wels… doesn’t care.”
And in that moment, it seemed as though a haze fell before his eyes, colouring his entire world with a beautiful green.
Notes:
i guess ill be saying sorry to both grian and wels here. so yeah. sorry.
Chapter 26
Notes:
I just wanna preface this with a very very heartfelt "thank you" to everyone that has been reading along with this so far. The response to my story has been so much more than I could have imagined when starting it, and reading your comments has on many occasions brightened my day. I'm a softie at heart, even though my writing doesn't always reflect that.
Once more, thank you all <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Though his communicator had buzzed twice, he had not bothered to take it out and look. He just didn’t want to see anyone for a while. He first needed a plan of sorts, some way for him to not break once he was faced with his friends again. Mumbo knew he couldn’t, because if he broke, he’d have to explain everything. And if he explained everything… He knew what the consequences would be.
If only he could ease up his guilt a little bit. That would make things better. But how? He couldn’t reverse time, he couldn’t teleport those captured out of their prison, and he sure as hell couldn’t take on the spider on his own. He was simply not good enough in fighting for that to be viable.
And then a thought struck him. There was something he could do, something he could fix. That spawner, that he had thrown dust into days ago. He could go and disable or destroy that, and after that he could visit that village with the well. That was doable enough. His hands balled into fists, and he looked up, eyes filled with determination and the last remains of tears.
“I will fix things. My word, I will fix things.”
With the backs of his hands he wiped the tears and snot from his face, and then he stood up, slightly scaring the parrots. They flapped away, squawking offendedly as they found another place to perch. Mumbo didn’t care, though. He was already checking his elytra and rocket supplies, wanting to get going. He only opened up his communicator to check the coordinates of the ravine, and ignored everything else that was on there. He had to do this, and he had to do this on his own.
Not minutes later, he flew out of Sahara, headed straight for the spawner. If that spidery bastard wanted it so badly, it would be his honour to destroy it.
His eyelids were heavy, so damned heavy. His mind wasn’t working at full speed either, and it was almost like minutes passed every time he managed to blink. When he tried to move, his muscles wouldn’t work with him, and he had to fight to stay awake. Wels did not want to be unconscious with that monster near him.
He found himself laying on a large flat surface, surrounded by a blue glow.
Blink
The glow was gone, eight red eyes looked down upon him.
Blink
A chill went up his chest, where his gambeson usually was.
Blink
He was no longer on his back, someone was pulling on his arm.
Blink
Wels was cold, a warm layer of clothing suddenly gone.
Blink
Large mandibles hovered a feet above his face as something was pressed around his throat.
Blink
Gravity pulled on his legs, hips, and arms, no longer supported.
Blink
The walls were made of cobwebs, gently rocking past him.
Blink
He knew this hallway, and he knew who was carrying him.
Blink
Everything around him was black, just infinitely black as far as the eye could see.
Blink
A flat surface supported him once more, as he heard something rattle near his head.
Blink
The spider phased through the wall, and Wels could finally relax.
Blink
As ten minutes had passed, and he still had no answer, Joe moved his worried pacing to the video room . He walked in on the guys from the tech team passing a very annoyed looking white and grey cat to Xisuma. He talked to it as well, in tired, clearly pronounced words.
“… so if I were to execute it, the script would call the name function and- Aw geez, that one doesn’t have the right parameters. That’s why it’s failing. I am such a derp.”
“And what do we say?” asked Scar, making the admin sigh.
“Thank you, Jellie.” He then scratched the cat behind her ears.
The poet raised his eyebrow, but didn’t say anything about it. Gods knew he talked to things too if he needed inspiration. And so he cleared his throat to get the attention of the others.
“Howdy, Joe, what is it?” Cub asked, fingers tapping on the table rhythmically.
“I can’t find Mumbo anywhere, and I looked in the entire bunker, I swear. He also didn’t answer my messages yet, and that for his safety makes me fret.” Scar frowned, and there was visible concern in Xisuma’s eyes as well, half hidden behind his visor as they may be.
“How long has he been gone for? Last I’ve seen him was at the meeting, waiting for word from False, Doc, and Wels,” the landscaper supplied.
“I cannot say I’ve seen him after that, he managed to disappear in a minute flat.”
Xisuma rubbed his chin, looking from person to person.
“He did seem to take the news about Wels very personally, which I can get. Perhaps he’s just trying to deal with that for a moment. Or perhaps he’s checking if he has new tasks to perform-”
“Negative, X, then we would have seen so on the cams,” interrupted Cub, pointing at the screens displaying an almost unmoving video feed of the hidden room in Mumbo’s base.
“Right. He’s not checking that, then. Cub, can you check if we have eyes on where he went? We’ll find him, Joe, don’t worry. At the very least he’s still alive.” Xisuma’s voice dropped to a low whisper at the end, implying more than he said. The bald man nodded and caught himself almost saluting, and Joe exhaled softly.
“Just let me know if you find anything out. I’ll just… Go outside and take a look about.”
He nodded at them, then took his leave once more. He wasn’t happy with the situation. Not happy at all.
Their trip back through the Nether was silent, not a word spoken between the two of them. When Wels’ second death message came, it was Doc that read it first, and he told False with his eyes, leaving some well-needed room for misinterpretation. This was not a good place for False to break, he’d rather bet back to the bunker before anything of the sort happened. The Nether was a dangerous place at the best of times, and could become very deadly very quickly if you were distracted.
False knew that she could do nothing to help her friend, and that weighed down on her a lot. Her eyes were mostly focussed on the netherrack ground, and more than usual was she able to see faces in it. They looked at her in frozen anguish, and it wasn’t hard to start imagining them with some distinguishing aspects of her friends. Every now and then she looked up, checking if she was not about to fly into a wall or something similar before refocussing on the faces. That one to the left even looked like Iskall, with a small ledge protruding forth where she imagined the left eye was.
Luckily for both of them, though, they quickly arrived at the Nether hub once more. The large map of the island spread out underneath them as they aimed for the bunker portal, touching down only a meter in front of it.
“Almost home,” Doc said, gesturing to the portal to allow False to go first. She nodded a bit shakily, but went through anyway.
For a short moment, the purple of the portal washed over her, before her sight went black for a short moment. At the next blink, she stood down in the tunnels of TFC’s base once more, with its almost perfectly hewn stone and glass. She could hear the chatter of her friends echoing towards her, and False realised she was shaking on her legs. All of these were friends, as Biffa had been. What if any one of them ended up like he had? It didn’t even seem impossible at that point. Could she protect them all, if she hadn’t even been able to protect Wels? Her breathing fastened and became shallower as she went through the thoughts, knowing full well that just her wouldn’t be enough to keep everyone that she cared for safe. None of them were safe. Not if that asshole had also managed to take Biffa, not if death meant getting abducted too.
A sudden hand on her shoulder made her jump.
“Falsey, are you okay?” asked Doc, worry permeating his voice.
It took a lot for her to not shake no. She knew she had to be okay, she simply had to be, to show the other Hermits that she was brave, and that they could be brave too. And yet, she also couldn’t push herself to nod. It was a lie, and she wanted to be helped and cared for.
So instead of nodding or shaking her head, she just shrugged. Doc was not very convinced by that, probably not aided by the fact that she was all but hyperventilating and stood trembling on her legs. He thought for a moment, looking around if he could see TFC somewhere.
“Let’s go get you a blanket and some hot chocolate, alright? Is that okay for you?” His voice was calm and soft, not wanting to pressure her into anything. He just wanted for his friend to be okay, and then maybe, just maybe, he could be a little bit more okay too. This, time, False did nod, just once at first, then a few more times rapidly after each other. A blanket and a hot drink sounded heavenly, even though she wasn’t even cold. Just the comfort of it all would do her good.
“Good. Let’s go raid TFC’s cocoa stash,” Doc chuckled, and a small laugh even adorned False’s lips very briefly.
“Yeah, let’s do that...” she mumbled, very okay with being guided through the tunnels to a place where she could just transform into a blanket cocoon for an hour or so.
Notes:
In which I once again hate myself for picking goddamned rhyme for Joe's dialogue.
If y'all wanna yell at me still, my tumblr is @fluid-quartz
Chapter 27
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Sally sat unmoving on the edge of the slabs, feet flat on the floor, hands folded on his lap. The neutral façade of his face hid the storm within. Inside, small bits of Grian remained, shouting at his own apathy, at that hostile calm that was smothering him. He tried to fight against those lines of green that were pulling him under, but they were strong, so, so strong, and he wasn’t. Grian didn’t want to lose himself, not like this, please, not like this.
And Sally didn’t care. He just sat, knowing his master would eventually come back to get him. He had all the time in the world. No need to call out to them, no need to raise a ruckus. He could just wait, as the voice in his head tried to break out and take over to no avail. The corner of his lips simply went up a few millimetres, forming a sly grin.
The old man was actually the first to notice that Doc and False were back, and he knew because someone was stumbling around in the kitchen. So he had stomped over there, wanting to make sure his temporary vaultdwellers were not breaking his things. That would be neat.
He wasn’t too sure what he expected as he walked in, but it probably wasn’t Doc struggling to use a pestle and mortar, with brown powder flying everywhere. It also wasn’t False wrapped up in a blanket sitting next to the fireplace, smiling at the mess.
“Ya do know that y’all will be the ones cleanin’ up here, right?” TFC asked, a gentle smile on his lips. It seemed to attract the attention of the scouting party, with Doc managing to shove some more cocoa powder out of his mortar as he turned around on his heels, almost to prove his point. “Welcome back, you two.”
A hand stuck out from the blanket cocoon and formed a peace sign as a greeting.
“Don’t worry, we will. It’s our mess, so we will clean it up,” False’s voice was softer than usual, but he couldn’t hold that against her. Surely what those two had just gone through had been at the very least slightly traumatising, the least he could do was cut them some slack. Besides, he was already more or less planning on sweeping up after them, even if they didn’t know that yet. He’d just have to usher them out of the kitchen by the time they were done making their… whatever it was, and just refuse their help. If anything, those two needed rest.
“Oh, hi TFC, didn’t see you there.” Doc actively tried to hide the mortar behind his back, pretending there was not a mess of cocoa all around him. Even though he was quite a bit taller than the old man, he still felt like a child that was spotted doing something naughty.
“It’s easier if ya put the mortar on a flat surface, dumbass.” He shook his head, then made his way over to the fridge. TFC opened it up, looking inside briefly before walking away from it again. “If y’all want, there’s still some stew and some cake in the fridge over ‘ere. Y’all didn’t hear that from me, by the way.” He chuckled, sitting down at the kitchen table.
The cyborg joined him not long later, while False seemed happy to stay where she was, eyes half closed and enjoying the heat. The old man just watched Doc work in silence, his face scrunching up more and more with every pestlestrike. At some point he just couldn’t bear watching the mess unfold any more, and he grabbed the kitchen utensils out of Doc’s hands.
“Hey! I had tha-”
“No ya didn’t, or else there wouldn’t be cocoa absolutely ev’rywhere. I got this, just go sit at the fire and eat something. Ya need some food.”
Once more, Doc started to protest, but TFC simply sent him a very grandfatherly look that said that resistance was futile. He rolled his eyes once, then stood up and got two slices of cake from the fridge, so he could share with False. Meanwhile, the old man got to quickly and efficiently transforming the cocoa beans into a powder, the strikes of his pestle forming an almost soothing rhythm.
A few minutes later, Doc spoke up again.
“Will you at least allow me to heat up some milk?”
“A’ight then, ‘cause ya asked nicely. Pots are in the cabinet to the left, milk is in the fridge. Don’t let it boil.” TFC gestured with his pestle as he spoke, pointing out the right places. Optimally, the milk would have been heated up while he was making the cocoa powder, but that was the power of hindsight. Behind him, he heard the cyborg move around, grabbing a pot and a bottle of milk. Seconds later, he heard the stove turning on, and some more clanking as a pot was put on the fire.
“Also, don’t pour too quickly, or-”
“Ah, shit!”
He shook his head. He loved these idiots.
He soared through the skies, land and oceans and islands passing underneath him. Normally, he would fly slower and enjoy the view, but not today. Today he had a mission, and his eyes stayed in front. At some point Jevin’s fidget spinner came and went, and then he saw the mountaintops in front of him, rising up from the sea. His destination was not far, now, that he knew. His sword was already on his belt, ready to be drawn, and his pickaxe was on top of his inventory together with some torches. This spawner was going down.
He flew closer, and it was only then that he noticed something was off. The mountains didn’t look their usual grey and brown, they were more… white, almost like diorite in pattern. From even closer it even seemed as though they gently moved in the breeze, and Mumbo didn’t understand why. Solid rock did not move in the wind, so why did these mountains…
“Oh my word.” It was only when he flew into the valley between two mountains that he realised what he was looking at. The steep inclines were absolutely covered in cobwebs, sometimes layers thick. The trees and bushes were wrapped up as well, with large webs spanning between the branches and the ground. Only the running water below him seemed to have been spared, although here and there, sunlight caught in the threads of a web spanning across the valley.
This was quite a change compared to three days ago. He didn’t even want to think about the amount of spiders that would have been necessary to create this many webs. His eyes glid over the landscape, and he could see large, venomous green spiders skittering around here and there. Like cave spiders on steroids.
Mumbo swallowed. It could be quite the challenge to get to the place where he needed to be given the amount of spiders and webs around here. Then again, he said he was going to do this, so he would. This was setting his mistakes right. Besides, he didn’t know what would happen to the world if he left the spawner for a few more days. How much more terrain would then be covered by webs?
If he was honest, he didn’t even want to think about it. This, too, was his fault. Okay, it was still mostly the fault of that monster, but even then. He had… probably accelerated it.
“Alright, Mumbo, let’s find that spawner again.”
He pulled up, coming out of the valley so he could check his coordinates against the ones of the ravine. It was still a few hundred blocks away, and simply thinking about what the ravine would look like by now made his head spin.
As he put his communicator away once more, he looked down upon the mountains. As far as he could see, they were all that web-covered colour, and some trees further into the distance as well. This had to stop, and it had to be stopped soon. The question was how.
Then he remembered he had flint and steel with him. It wasn’t much, but he knew webs burned well. He just needed to light them without touching down, and then the entire thing would go up in flames. A bow with the flame enchantment would have been even better, but he didn’t have that with him. Mumbo never carried a bow, but somehow he did most of the time carry at least a handful of arrows with him. His logic in that was flawless.
The redstoner looked around, trying to find a spot from which to start the flames. Somewhere down there would be optimal, as fire generally went upwards, but most valley ground was covered in cobwebs as well. Except… the blue snake of a river that was meandering between the mountains. That was still safe, so as long as he would be in there, it would be fine. Mumbo just needed to make sure his flint and steel would stay dry, otherwise the thing would be useless, but this sounded like a plan.
“You got this. You can burn things, that’s not difficult. Just burn the webs. Dive in, light it in some points, fly out. Or swim, possibly.” He mumbled to himself, before turning in the sky and dropping down. How many chances he had for this he didn’t know, but he was going to assume it was just the one. No mistakes, not now.
He shot down to the water, already fiddling with the flint and steel in his hands. Grian would’ve been able to just do this from flight, but he wasn’t Grian. His elytra tricks weren’t that good, though they were getting better. Dodging the stray webs, he landed, standing to his middle in the water. This better be good.
Mumbo waded to the edge of the water, into reach of the nearest web. There were no spiders near, not right now, not that he could see, so he better be quick about this. In a swift, practised motion he clicked the steel against the flint, and sparks flew out. Some went through the web, onto the grass below it, and some hit the threads. Nothing seemed to happen for a moment, and then he saw a small flame appear, helped by the draft in the valley.
A flame that spread, following the lines of the web. A flame that became a fire, catching on its neighbouring cobwebs as well. A fire that grew higher and higher as Mumbo looked, spreading quickly. He knew that he had to get out of there, before the mountain was entirely on fire.
This was step one, and so far, it had been perfect.
Notes:
and the least angsty chapter in my fic award goes toooooooo....... chapter 27!
come find me on tumblr: @fluid-quartz
Chapter 28
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Ever so slowly, his eyes opened once more. This time, though, he felt more like himself, more in control. Sure, it still took a second for the black spots to fade from his vision every time that he blinked, and it was almost like his sight was lagging behind ever so slightly, but at the very least he could move. His mind was still spinning, coming to strange conclusions here and there, but at the very least he could think.
Wels sat up slowly and looked around. He recognised this kind of room from somewhere, it just took him a moment to figure it out where he had seen this before. The knight blinked, letting the details of the room come into his mind. Blackness, as far as the eye could see. Dark slabs that he was sitting on. A chain connecting a metal collar to the floor. He knew there had to be walls somewhere, too.
“Right! Python, Ren and Iskall were in a room like this…” he muttered to himself. There was still another place he remembered, but it was like this and at the same time not like this at all. That other room had been white, built by friendly rivals. He had only seen it in passing, once, after the civil war had ended and he was poking around the G-team base.
The question was not how he would be getting out of here. He knew that the Hermits had his location, and he was quite certain that a rescue operation was already under way. The question was how he made sure that the infinite black expanse wouldn’t make him go insane before they got to him. That would be bad, after all.
The first thing to come to his mind was simply to sing. He knew enough songs that roused the listeners into a rebellion, that helped keep hopes up. Those seemed like a good enough start. The second thing to come to mind was simply to keep moving. To not sit there, defeated, but to actively keep moving, keep practising a series of sword drills. That he had no sword or stick or anything of the sort didn’t really help him, but he could manage.
And so, he stood up, stretching out his arms, his legs, and the muscles in his neck.
“Let’s go.”
He switched his stance, one feet in front, the other behind. His left arm was lightly bent, as though he was holding a shield in front of him, his right arm was held as though a sword was weighing it down. Wels made sure that the chain was not in the way, and then he started moving, gently singing under his breath.
“Do you hear the people sing, lost in the valley of the night? It is the music of a people who are climbing to the light.”
The knight moved in the rhythm of the song, blocking and slashing at a non-existent enemy. In his mind, it looked like a spider.
“For the wretched of the earth, there is a flame that never dies. Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.”
Something was very soothing about sorting through books and puzzling out what the best combination of them was. It was very repetitive, but that was fine. It needed doing, and it kept her head off of things. Plus, if she figured out one set, she would have them all figured out, because she could just use the same combination of books in the same order. Stress would just need to give a shopping list to Impulse and he would get them from his villagers at iTrade, as well as a bunch of bottles of enchanting.
For now, though, they were sitting together with open shulkers filled with books around them. The pages in front of them were no longer empty, and were instead filled with neat diagrams of orders in which to combine what, some parts crossed out and done over again and again and again. Crumpled paper filled with calculations laid on the ground, all either wrong or just unnecessary.
“Sooo… If we were to take that Fire Protection and Projectile Protection book, and then we add the one with regular Protection, Unbreaking and Mending… That should work, right, luv? Could even add Thorns to that I think!” She was excitedly tapping her paper with the end of her quill. It was almost sad that her notes on how she made this armour were back in her ice castle, but she could manage. If she could figure it out once, she could figure it out another time. Impulse frowned, looking over the calculations to double check.
“Yeah, that does seem correct. Wanna try it out?” He had already stood up to gather the books from the various shulkers, depositing them next to Stress, together with some bottles with a shimmering yellow and green liquid, just in case a little bit of extra oomph was needed.
“Yes please!” She jumped up, all but skipping over to the anvil in the room before she realised she needed the books. In no time she had received them, starting with the Unbreaking, Mending and Protection books. The last one she put down on the ground next to her, for now, while she gently put the other two on top of each other on the anvil. The ice queen focussed her intent on wanting to combine the two books into one, transferring the enchantments onto the book touching the anvil. Then she took up the smith’s hammer and started hammering down on the books, really focussing on what she wanted to achieve.
With each hit, the form of the top book became more and more translucent, while the blue and purple shimmer of the bottom book became brighter, until the top book was just entirely gone. It visibly tired her, but not by much. It as still an acceptable level, and she knew that the further she got, the more tiring it would become. And so Stress scooped up the Protection book from the ground and hammered that into the first book too. It took a bit longer than the previous book, and beads of sweat were already slipping down her forehead.
Still, about a minute later, she had just one book remaining, glimmering gently in the torchlight. There were more runes on it than there where when she started, and she knew she had been successful so far at a glance. The runes were correct, or at the very least, they were what she expected.
“So far so good. Can you give me the next batch, luv?”
“Yep, gimme a sec. Fire Protection and Projectile Protection, right?”
“Ding ding ding! Yeah, that’s right!” She smiled widely as she put away the first book.
The second set went just as easily, as did combining the two books after it.
“Leggings?” she asked, hand outstretched, and Impulse delivered a pair of brand new diamond leggings into her grip. She put them onto the anvil, book precariously balancing on top of them.
“Bottle o’ enchanting? I’m gonna need it.” Once more, Impulse delivered, handing her one of the bottles he had gotten so far. Stress didn’t think twice and just started downing the stuff. It smelled like sugar tasted, but somehow more electric, more invigorating. Just drinking it gave her the idea that she could take on a lot more, and a few seconds later her body caught up with that idea as well. Electricity raced across her skin, and it was almost like she glowed for a second, before everything returned back to normal.
“Alrighty, here we go!” With renewed vigour, she started hammering the book into the leggings. This time, it took a little bit longer before the book on top disappeared, but as it did, the leggings took on that same blue and purple glint that the book had. Stress also knew that if she looked closely enough, she’d find the same runes etched into the material now, identifying all enchantments with the standard galactic alphabet.
“And? Did it work?” Impulse came closer, looking over her shoulder to see the result for himself. He wasn’t as good with the other alphabet as Stress was, though he could get the general gist if he just studied the letters for a while.
“Yep! And now… We gotta do the same for the helmet, boots and chestplate, and then do it aaaaaaaaall fourteen more times, so we all have armour. I do hope you have more books, more of the green stuff, and some strength in your upper arms, ‘cause we’re gonna need that, luv.”
Waiting both took ages and no time at all. Being stuck in his mind felt like an eternity, and yet, it almost seemed as though he had had barely any chance to get out before Arachne entered once more. Grian could feel his body shift, standing up and even bowing slightly. Both things he did not particularly agree with, but Sally was in the drivers seat, not him. He could only watch from the back seat as the spider-like creature came closer, inspecting his form from all angles. Grian was kicking and screaming, and it only seemed to bother Sally a little bit. Not at all enough.
Arachne stopped right in front of him, lifting his chin with one of their hands, so they could look into his eyes. It seemed to satisfy them, and a moment later their focus shifted to his collar. What exactly they did he didn’t know, but seconds later he felt the metal band loosening. With a clang it fell to the ground, but somehow, it didn’t feel as good as Grian had imagined it would be. It was a weird idea that the removal of the restraints actually didn’t mean freedom, but that it meant that they had him so far under their control that they didn’t even deem them necessary any more.
He wanted to scream, he wanted to kick, he wanted to be angry, he wanted to cry, but Sally didn’t want to do any of those things. And Sally was a lot stronger than him, pushing his wants and desires to a corner to be forgotten about. But Grian knew his mind. He knew some hooks and crannies where that other version of him would never come.
“And so… The little fly turned into a little spider.”
A single tear dripped down over his mask of perfect neutrality.
Notes:
i just had to make him sing okay i had no choice
come yell at me on tumblr! @fluid-quartz
Chapter 29
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
All around him, the inferno blazed. The flames almost ran over the mountainside, first catching on the webs and then on the grass, shrubs and trees underneath it. The valley grew hot fast, almost unbearably hot. That was not his main problem at that point, though. The problem was the draft going over the water, pulling smoke and fire towards him. It wasn’t a lot at first, but as time passed and the fire spread, Mumbo realised that he needed to get out of there. Neither of the riverbanks was an option, so straight up it was.
He started fumbling with his inventory to get out his rockets, elytra already on his back. He always got a little bit butterfingered when he was stressed, and this certainly warranted for him to be more than a bit stressed. Eventually, though, he got them out, ready to pull the string on the first one. Then a tongue of flame lashed out at him, and Mumbo’s first reflex was to throw himself backwards, further into the water. Now he was wet to his chest, and his arms to his elbows as well.
“Oh my word, that was close.” His heart was beating in his chest, and surely, he hadn’t been breathing this hard just seconds before. Okay. Out of here. Now. The redstoner pulled the string of his rocket as he pushed himself off from the riverbed. Instead of the sensation of his elytra spreading and wind blowing in his face, though, he just found himself landing on the riverbed again. The rocket hadn’t even fired.
Once more he tried, much to the same result. Only then did he realise that the rocket was soaked, the colourful stripes on the paper bleeding through each other. The entire stack that he had taken out of his inventory had the same issue, and that had been everything he had with him.
“Ah, no. No, no, no, no, please, not now. Why am I such a spoon?!” he exclaimed, putting the rockets back where he got them from. That wasn’t going to help him. Not at all. Okay, then what? The banks were still a bad idea, and up nor down were a real option. Well, he could try digging down if he felt like drowning, which he didn’t. Not really. His only options were following the river, either upstream or downstream. The latter was probably best, if only for the simple reason that there was more water that way, and less land and cobwebs.
So, swimming it was, then, because of course he didn’t have a boat with him. Those were all back at his base, probably in the same chest as his diamond hoes. With his suit already ruined by the smoke and water, Mumbo just went for it and started swimming further downstream. Here and there, it seemed like some spiders had had the same idea. They were swimming, some against the current, some with the current, and it almost looked as though they didn’t notice him there. Almost.
Because at least a few of them were just staring at him as he swam past, almost accusingly. As if they knew what he had done. As though they wanted to do something to him, but couldn’t. Maybe even as though they weren’t allowed to. Whatever the reason, those green eyes unnerved him deeply, and it wasn’t the large spiders attached to them.
“Just keep swimming, Mumbo. Just keep swimming.”
After the yelling and the scream, they knew that something had to have happened to Wels. The question they all didn’t want to ask was “what?”. Had he been taken, had he been killed? They couldn’t know. Sure, they had their theories, but not one of them spoke them out loud, they were simply too depressing.
Over time, their simple chatter had just died down, leaving them alone with their thoughts. Ren lied on his back, looking at the distant ceiling – if there even was one – with longing in his eyes, while Iskall sat at the edge of his slabs, elbows on his knees and chin on his palms. Python had gathered his knees in his arms and had his eyes trained on the patch of black that Wels had come through. He was hoping for someone they knew to get here, and soon, before Arachne had additional plans.
Then he heard soft footsteps, and someone seemed to just appear out of thin air. One moment there was just the brightest black, then a form suddenly passed through it. They had messy blonde hair, a sleeveless green coat, and a tray with some plates on them. The edges of something purple peeked over their shoulders, their right hand had blood all over it, and their skin was pale. And their eyes… A dark green, almost seeming to glow from within. A vacant, neutral look glid over the occupants of the room, and they started moving towards them just enough to put the plates down in their reach.
Still, despite it all, Python recognised them, how could he not?
“Grian…? Fat… Fat did fey do to you?” he asked, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the way the builder moved and looked. It caught the attention of Iskall and Ren as well, who shot to their feet. There was a mixture of relief and worry in their eyes, not helped by the fact that Grian seemed to ignore them.
“Hello? Grian? Are you alright?” Iskall asked, tentatively moving closer. Only now did he see the green lines on his friends body, almost as though all his veins had been infected by something. The worry in his eyes overtook the relief. Something here was very, very wrong.
Finally, after having put down all the plates, the little spider looked up, straight into Iskalls eye.
“Who is Grian?”
Their hot cocoa was long gone, as were the cake and the stew. It had been nice, relaxing in front of the fire, just breathing out the memories and the stress. They both knew it couldn’t last forever, though, not with the fight they were fighting, and so Doc had just sent Xisuma a message to let him know they were back and were in the kitchen.
It had only taken a minute for the admin to burst through the door, tech team in tow. The looked positively confused to see them there, and even more so when they spotted the empty mugs and plates.
“Wha… How… When… Huh?” Xisuma sputtered, and False turned to him, once again sticking her hand out of the blankets to form a peace sign.
“Heya.”
“Sup?” Doc just grinned.
“How long have you two been here already? We were worried sick!” The admin was already pacing through the kitchen, motioning with his hands as he spoke.
“I would guess… about half an hour?” The cyborg patted the ground next to him, showing Xisuma where he could sit. The latter, however, declined and just stood.
“Why didn’t Cleo and Jevin not warn us-”
“Didn’t see them.”
“But… How? They are guarding the main entra-”
“Nether portal, X. We came through the Nether portal.”
For a short moment, Xisuma just stood, mouth opening and closing behind his visor as though he wanted to say something but just didn’t know what yet. Instead, Scar spoke up.
“Half an hour, huh? Why didntcha tell us sooner?” He sounded hurt, in a way. The landscaper didn’t seem too pleased about having had to worry a lot longer than necessary. Doc just sighed and looked at the ground uncomfortably, but False looked Scar straight in the eyes.
“Honestly, we needed some time to… deal with stuff, ya know, before talking to all of you.” Her voice was flat and tired, and she tried to convey most of her pain with her eyes. Gone was her smile, she just looked as though she wanted nothing more than to turn back time.
Both Scar and Cub came closer as well, the former crouching down to be at eye level with False.
“What happened in there, False?” His voice was gentle, not accusatory at all. She sighed, eyes dropping to the ground.
“It was a trap. The spid- Arachne was there, with close to fifty cave spiders and-” she swallowed “- and Biffa. We couldn’t even get close to them because of the spiders, but then...” False shuddered, pulling the blanket closer around her, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the fire. She really didn’t want to continue her story, it was still too fresh in her memory. Scar seemed to understand and waited patiently, but Cub certainly didn’t.
“And then?” False lightly frowned, muscles underneath her eyes pulling for a moment. Her lower lip was already slightly trembling even before she had said anything to them, and she knew that the question was not if she would cry if she told them, but when.
“Then they… Biffa… They sent him to- to kill us. I just… We… Wels… Wels, he… He just- He took on Biffa a-alone s-so we could…” Apparently, this was when. A sob escaped her throat, and her vision blurred with tears. Once more, Scar came closer, hugging her shaking and trembling form while uttering soft noises of comfort.
“Hey, hey, take your time. It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re safe here. Ssssh…”
Notes:
this was one of those chapters where the characters just didn't do what i wanted them to do. oh well.
comments? questions? keysmashes? leave 'em here, or over on tumblr: @fluid-quartz
Chapter 30
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Inside his head, he was screaming. He wanted to let them know that he was still there, that he wanted them to help him, that he wanted them all to be safe and free. He wanted to warn them about Arachne, to let them know how he got this way so they would not make the same mistake, and he wanted to tell them to not give up.
Still, it didn’t seem to matter what he wanted, no matter how hard he pulled on the bars of his mental prison. Sally didn’t budge at all, keeping up that perfect mask of his. Through the green haze, Grian could see the shock on his friends’ faces, the full on anger that radiated from Iskall.
He stomped closer, hands balled into fists.
“What did that bastard do to you?!” he growled, grabbing Sally by the edges of his coat. “You are Grian, you understand? Don’t make me shake that into you.” Despite his anger, worry was woven through his words. The little spider simply made a sound of disdain in response.
“I am Sally. And don’t worry, you all will be like me soon.”
No! I’m not Sally, Sally is a chicken! I’m Grian, I’m Grian, I’m Grian! Please don’t hurt them don’t hurt them don’t hurt my friends please!
For a split second, the green haze lifted and a pleading look appeared in his eyes. Then, as quickly as it came, it disappeared again as Sally mentally kicked Grian back down.
Iskall lifted him off the ground just a little. Ren came up closer now, as did Python, as far as their respective chains allowed.
“You. Are. GRIAN! And. You. Are. My. FRIEND!” He punctuated each word by shaking the builder. Sally just chuckled, and Grian internally screamed.
YES! THAT’S ME! Let me go let me go let me go free me please Iskall please free me.
Once more, he was pressed back down into a corner of his mind as the little spider pulled back the reigns.
“I am not your friend, I don’t even know you.” There was no emotion in his voice, except maybe condescension and scorn. “So I suggest you put me down.” Iskall seemed hurt by his words, judging by the way his brows furrowed and the look in his eye. Ever so slowly, he put the little spider back on the ground, then took a step back.
“Grian, I swear, if you’re still in there, I will get you back,” There was a tremble in his voice, an unwillingness to just give up on his friend like that. Not when the builder’s familiar form was right in front of him, albeit tainted by that damned spider.
The little fly pushed hard, so hard to climb back to the drivers seat of his own mind. His body was trembling, he felt it, he saw it, and once more, the haze lifted, the green glow fading from his eyes.
“Help-” he managed to bring out, barely louder than a whisper, straining hard to get through, to push Sally aside. He was pleading with his eyes, visibly scared of what was happening. Then the little spider pushed back harder than he could handle, and the haze came crashing down full force again. Grian had to give everything he had to not be pushed out of his own mind completely. The trembling stopped and Sally straightened out his clothes, the neutrality and uncaring back in his eyes as if nothing had happened. Before Iskall could grab him again, he moved backwards, out of reach.
“No!” Iskall, in the same moment, subconsciously moved forwards, one arm outstretched as if that would keep Grian with him for longer. “Let him go, you… you… you monster!”
Sally just blinked, cocking his head slightly.
“I don’t think I will.” Then he gestured to the plates with liquefied meat on the floor. “Bon appetit.”
And he started walking out, hearing the prisoners shout at him to stop, to give their friend back. The little spider scoffed. He had no friends.
Only a master.
Joe hadn’t managed to find Mumbo anywhere in the shopping district. Not in one of the shops, not down in the mall, not at Sahara, nowhere. His messages had still gone unanswered, and with each passing minute, worry grew. He knew Grian had been taken without having died, it could very well have happened again. Sure, he had no explanation as to why their enemy would have kidnapped their mole, but besides that, it was a solid theory.
And he had more, but to disprove the first of them, he was flying towards Mumbo’s globe. It could still be that he was just gathering some resources for the upcoming mission, or that he needed some alone time after what had happened. The latter was more likely, frankly. Joe knew that he himself generally wanted to be around people when he felt bad, but he also knew that not all of his friends were that way. He knew that X just disappeared into the End when things became too much, and False generally retreated into a nearby flower forest. He knew Scar had Jellie, Doc had his redstone projects, and that Grian either resorted to pranking people or to taking to the skies.
And Mumbo… Well, his storage system certainly seemed to make him happy. That place, or that ridiculous industrial zone of him. Joe had seen him a few times when flying past, the redstoner just staring at pistons firing, at items shooting past in ice streams. So right now he hoped he could find the man in the same place, because that would certainly soothe his worries.
As Joe flew past Grian’s empty base, he only gave it a glance in passing. No use dwelling on that right now, nothing productive would come out of that. Perhaps later, he would come back here and write a poem or a song about it, but not right now. Not with their raid coming up soon. Not with Mumbo missing. Not with his friends in danger.
He pulled the strings on more rockets, and before long, he landed at the top ring of the globe. Joe looked around from up there, but the redstoner was nowhere in sight. The only movement he could see was that of the polar bears in the ice quarter of his base, as well as a few stray chickens here and there. Nothing that would suggest Mumbo being there, or having been there recently. Underground, then?
With practised grace, he stepped off the edge, elytra deploying almost immediately after. He glid down, circling around the globe, down as far as he could. Still nothing there, and he wasn’t too sure on how to get underground.
“Mumbo? Muuuuuumboooooooooo?!” he called out, hoping for some kind of answer. Joe looked around as the wind picked up a little, bringing the smell of smoke with it.
He frowned. Smoke? That seemed wrong. Very wrong. The poet turned towards the south-east, where the wind was coming from, and squinted. The clouds in the sky seemed greyer there, a lot greyer. There was barely any blue visible through it, and something in him said that those weren’t rain clouds.
Without lifting his eyes from the horizon, he got his communicator out. He didn’t even bother going into private messages, quite certain that this had nothing to do with their rescue mission.
<joehillssays> Something is burning
<joehillssays> South-eastern wind brings the smoke
<joehillssays> I can’t find Mumbo
He wasn’t sure how he would ever reach the sea. The fire was burning so brightly all around him, even above him, and it was almost unbearably hot. The crackling of the flames nearly drowned out the hisses of dying spiders, and breathing became harder by the minute because of the smoke-filled air. The fire was growing out of hand, and for the first time Mumbo was wondering if maybe it had been a bad idea to light it from right in the centre.
Days without spoon moments: 0.
He kept going through the motions of swimming forwards, moving his arms and legs in unison at the fastest pace he could hold for a longer time. If only he had some ender pearls or a riptide trident with him, that would make this so much easier. Or if he had Depth Strider on his boots, or a dolphin swimming with him. Sadly, he had none of those things, and he had to fend for himself. He just had to keep going, it was do or die right now. And given to what happened to the others when they died… He’d rather not. Going down in a fire was painful until the last moment too, he knew from experience.
And so he swam, putting one arm in front of the other time and time again. His muscles were complaining, his heart was beating fast, and his lungs were begging for fresh air, or something else he could breathe in without the air scorching his throat.
Come on, Mumbo. You got this.
Spiders swam past him, going in both directions, still occasionally pausing to look at him. Mumbo, however, opted to ignore it for now. He had no time or energy to also think about that. Not with the end of the river coming into sight, not with open sea so close. How far was it still? Maybe twenty metres? The valley was already widening, the heat of the fire a tiny bit less intense here. There was still the smoke, so much smoke, but once he got out, that would be solved. Just a bit further. Just a few strokes more.
The gentle waves and the salty taste and smell of the water were welcome, oh so welcome. Mumbo sighed, happy to be out of there. Just a bit further he swam, out of reach of the flames, and then he just turned and started threading water, watching the consequences of his actions.
The mountains were ablaze, large plumes of smoke rising up and moving on the wind. Some areas were simply smouldering after the brunt of the inferno had passed over it, others where still covered in flames. Mumbo wondered if they would spread, and if he should warn someone. He also wondered if he had enough wood with him for a crafting table and a boat. That would be stellar.
Before he could figure out if he did, though, he felt something clasping around his ankle. The redstoner only had time to take one shallow breath, and then he was pulled under the waves.
Notes:
we broke 50k words kids!!! thanks for coming along on the ride so far, let's see how far this'll still go!
also, id like to thank joe for making me spend time on actually writing a goddamn haiku (see if you can find it)as always, come yell at me on tumblr (@fluid-quartz) or down in the comments
Chapter 31
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Cubs fingers were dancing over the keyboard in a fast-paced salsa. Code in bright green letters ran over his screen, the occasional pop-up asking for confirmation or authorisation coming up every now and then. On the screens on the wall, the images shifted quickly as a small amount of drones moved away from the main island, and a different group was speeding through the Nether. He wanted eyes on the situation, and he wanted them fast. Sure, he knew there were a few Hermits currently busy gathering as many buckets as they could to aid Joe once he found the fire, but coordination needed to be in place by the time they got there.
And so he had thinned surveillance on the island in order to get drones over there. Was it a bad idea? Possibly. Then again, they needed to find out what was burning. To the south-east was only Jevin’s base, some farms, and a lot of forest, and any of those was at least slightly problematic if it was on fire. Especially the forest. There was a lot of it, and they really had no time to also be fighting a continent-wide wildfire next to the mutated spider person that had taken their friends. It was better to spend a little bit of time on that now, before the situation grew out of control.
The drones in the Nether had meanwhile reached their destination, the portal that would lead to Jevin’s base. Cub hit a few keys, and all but one of them switched to hover mode. The last one went through first, just to minimise losses if it was Jevin’s base that was on fire. The video feed changed to static the moment the drone entered the portal, the energy needed to move between dimensions interfering with the signal.
It was a tense five seconds, and then the feed came back on. For what he could see, the fidget spinner seemed perfectly fine. It was the capitalist’s cue to also send through the other drones, and to start figuring out how he could make them fly out. There had to be some logical path there, and Cub was positive he could find it. It would probably have been better if he had Jevin there with him to guide the way, but the slime man was one of the people currently gathering buckets.
Nevertheless, the capitalist just went for it. He was used to high-speed manoeuvring of the drones, and once he got one out, the others would be easy. Once again, he let the majority of his platoon hover in the air while he shifted most of his attention to one of them.
The feed moved, showing rooms and hallways and occasionally a wall from very close by. Still, Cub knew what he was doing, and was able to dodge out of the way or break at the right moments. Before he knew it, he found a way out through the very centre of Jevin’s base. With a few more clicks, the drone halted, hovering slightly to the side of the entrance and slowly spinning in place to get a good image of everything around it. Then the rest of the platoon started moving, flying through the halls, buzzing like a swarm of bees.
And then they too burst through the hole in the ceiling, ready to move. The feeds were a little blurry here and there as clouds of smoke wafted past, and for the first time, Cub got eyes on what was happening. In the distance, he could see the mountains burning brightly in a scene that looked as though someone had cut it straight from the Nether.
He cursed under his breath as his fingers restarted their dance. At some point he would needed to make a connection from his keyboard and screen to his communicator, but he didn’t have that right now. Once more, the drones started moving, this time towards the mountains, slowly fanning out to reach decent coverage. He only had to make a few more tweaks in their paths before he found it acceptable enough, and he quickly dug up his communicator.
<cubfan135> It’s the mountains between Jevin’s base and the Halloween district
<cubfan135> Jevin’s portal is safe to go through, haven’t checked the Halloween one yet
<cubfan135> No eyes on Mumbo yet either
The capitalist sighed, straightening his shoulders and back. Back to flying the drones it was.
Logic dictated that if you wanted to fight fire, you needed to send in those least bothered by the heat. As someone that felt most comfortable in the Nether, Tango was the first to drop what he was doing and volunteer. He knew how to handle fire, and he wasn’t afraid to just dive in head-first if it was needed. So now he was busy scooping up buckets of water, both for himself and for the others that would be going. The question was who that would be, because as of that moment they were trying to juggle two large problems at once, and both needed attention. They were already missing six people because of that damned spider, Joe was out in the field, Mumbo was MIA and he’d be surprised if False and Doc would be going out for this.
Tango was considering the possibilities as he heard someone coming up to him. A quick glance to the side revealed it was Jevin, who had just put down a shulkerbox filled to about a third with buckets. He whistled, impressed by the sheer amount of them. That had to have cost a lot of iron to make. The buckets were needed, though. They couldn’t quite go and create infinite water sources all over the mountains, that would be another disaster to clean up afterwards.
“Are you going too?” the demon asked, bending forwards to fill yet another bucket. He wasn’t sure how many they would need, but more was probably better. Jevin put a few empty buckets on the ground, then sat on his knees on the edge of the water.
“I kinda have to, don’t I? It’s close to my base, I know the general area. Besides, I’m quite sure that Cleo can hold the fort without me.” He didn’t entirely sound happy about it, but shrugged anyway. There was not much he could do about it, so he’d just do what he could, which right now consisted of gathering water.
“Well, you don’t have to, of course, but having more people helping out is nice.” Tango swapped out the full bucket for another empty one. “Do you have fire resistance potions arranged for yourself? I can image the heat isn’t so nice with… you know.” He vaguely gestured to the slime Jevin was composed of. The latter simply nodded.
“Yeah, I got some on me. Skin melting and sticking to my clothes is not really something I look forward to, so I got my precautions, man.”
Tango made a noise of understanding, but didn’t say more. Together, they returned to just filling buckets in silence.
Even without a sword and shield, even without armour, Wels eventually grew sweaty and tired. His singing had gone from a loud bellowing to a softer muttering to humming to only in his head, but there was still a rhythm behind his motions. There were still clear patterns in his movements, a dance of blocking, parrying and slashing. Over time, the tempo had gone up as well, with the knight barely standing still between two moves.
He was so engrossed in his practice that he didn’t even notice it when someone passing through the blackness. In his perception, they just were there suddenly, standing and observing him, a plate in their hands. The moment Wels finally saw them, he stopped dead in his tracks. It was the last person he expected to just waltz in.
“Grian…?” he asked, panting but with suspicion in his voice. The calm and peace the builder was radiating did not align with the few sentences he had heard him shout not hours before. Something here was off, but he wasn’t sure what. It could be the lack of a red sweater, it could simply be the disdain in the way he looked at him, it could be a combination of things. The one thing the knight was sure of, was that he could trust this about as far as he could throw the person in front of him.
Which was to say, not really that far.
As the builder came closer, Wels actually did not drop his defences. His instincts were both screaming for him to do so, because this was his friend, and to please please please keep them up because there was no way that this was his friend.
‘Grian’ did not go to attack him, though. He just put down the plate a few meters away from the slabs.
“Bon appetit,” he said, in a voice that was at the same time so very familiar and so very off. The builder straightened his back once more, then started moving back to where he had entered, disregarding any reactions the knight had. Just before that, though, he turned around, looking Wels straight in his eyes with those unnaturally green eyes of his.
“And Wels? Thank you. You caused me to be like this.” With a soft chuckle he stepped backwards, through the black wall and out of Wels’ sight.
Notes:
oh look sally is being a little bitch again
find me on tumblr! @fluid-quartz
Chapter 32
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Preparing for the firefighting action had not taken long at all, and before they knew it, Tango and Jevin were meeting Joe at the top of the fidget spinner. It seemed to be the safest vantage point, if they had to believe Cub. Given the amount of drones they could spot from where they stood, believing him was more than likely grounded.
“Did you find Mumbo yet, or…?” Tango asked while Jevin put down the shulker full of buckets. Joe shook his head.
“I did not, and though didn’t want to at first, it may be necessary for us to be prepared for the worst.” The poet started taking out a few water buckets, putting them in his own inventory.
“Hmm… I think you may be right, especially cause he’s not answering his comms.” The demon sighed. “Ah well. We gotta focus on the task at hand. Getting that-” he pointed towards the inferno “- under control.”
“What we figured out as the best tactic is to make a wall of water around the fire to contain it first. After that, Tango goes in to try and take away as much burnable stuff as possible, while we try quench the flames from the outside, working inwards. We got Cub on standby to coordinate everything, cause he got eyes on the situation. Questions?” Jevin asked, counting the points on his fingers as he spoke.
“No, I can’t say that I do. Let’s go for it, fire fighting crew!”
Not too far away, Mumbo was struggling to get back to the surface. He needed air, and he needed it now. The drowned clinging to his legs had different ideas, though. He could feel how their bony fingers scraped over his armour, trying to find his skin so they could rip it open and eat it. Or at least, that’s what Mumbo presumed. None of them knew what drove the monsters in their world, and frankly, this probably was not the moment to get all philosophical about that. He could do that when he wasn’t drowning.
The redstoner opened up his inventory in a hurry, getting out his sword. Wielding the thing underwater was a nightmare, but it was better than becoming fish food. He desperately stabbed downwards, to where the hands were, and he felt the blade connecting. The drowned let out a sound of pain, that the water turned into a deformed gurgle. The momentum also drove him up a little, but the monsters didn’t let go just yet.
Again, he stabbed, his movements slowed by the water, but seemingly still effective. One of the hands, still wrapped around his ankle, stopped moving. The drowned it had been attached to just moments before gurgled again, letting its other hand go in order to swim up and try to grab Mumbo’s arm in retaliation. The sword slashed through the water, making it twirl a rusty red as it also hit the undead. It let out a last screech, then its head detached from its body and floated up.
Up, that direction he should also be going. His lungs were already burning, and there was still one of those monsters clinging to his leg, clawing upwards. Mumbo kicked at it with his free leg, and he felt his foot connecting to something hard. Probably a skull, possibly bone. He didn’t particularly care, though, as long as it let him go. Just for good measure, he kicked again while he tried to swim up with his arms.
With only one drowned trying to drag him down, he actually started moving towards the light a little now. With renewed vigour, Mumbo moved and kicked, inching closer to the surface. The edges of his vision were already starting to darken, and every fibre of his being was fighting the urge to breathe in. He shouldn’t, he knew he shouldn’t, but he also knew that at some point his air would run out, and it was probably sooner rather than later.
Under him, the undead gurgled and screeched each time his kicks connected, and before long, it felt as though a weight dropped from his ankle. Mumbo rose up through the water, not wanting to think about what would run out sooner, his breath or the amount of meters to the surface.
Maybe half a meter under the surface, he could no longer stop the urge of breathing out the last bit he had in his lungs. The bubbles rose alongside him, but faster, and he could see them pop open as they came into contact with the air above him. The next response of his body was to breathe in, cause he had just breathed out.
The salt water burned as it went down his throat, straight into his lungs. With one last desperate kick he broke through the surface, just as he started to cough in reflex, trying to get the water out of his lungs. Had he still been under the waves, that would have most definitely resulted in his lungs filling up further, but here… it meant oxygen, blessed, blessed oxygen.
Water dripped out of his mouth and nose, the salt burning as it went, and he felt awful, but at the very least he was still alive. Drowning was not a good way to go. It was painful and scary and not at all as peaceful as people said it was. He coughed more, wanting to get rid of the horrid feeling in his chest, not to much effect.
The redstoner was tired, because of both the struggle for air and the struggle against the drowned, so the step to just let himself float was an easy one to make. Mumbo drifted on his back, looking up in the sky. Above him, clouds sped past, smelling of smoke and fire. And there was a bird of sorts up there too. He blinked tiredly, not entirely knowing what kind it was. He faintly recognised it, but with its four wings it was difficult to put a name to it. Maybe he was just hallucinating, that could also still be something. Birds had two wings, not four. And yet, it seemed familiar.
Back in the video room, Cub nearly missed the head coming up through the waves. At first glance, it had looked like a drowned, with black hair messily hanging down over greyish skin, heavy with water. He had almost sent his drone further on its route, were it not for the flash of red he saw. That, and another dot of hair, this time in the middle of the face. It made him reconsider, and he actually sent the drone lower, to take a better look.
When he realised what he saw, he wasted no time in taking out his communicator.
<Cubfan135> I HAVE EYES ON HIM
<Cubfan135> in the ocean, approximately 1300 -200
<Cubfan135> firefighters, get him, he does not seem well
<iJevin> !!!!
<iJevin> On it!!
His attention went back to the screens, and while he knew he needed to keep an eye on the fire, his gaze kept getting pulled to the one with Mumbo on it. How the redstoner had managed to get there, in that condition, he didn’t know, but Cub did know that they’d get him out of it, and he’d keep an eye on the situation until they did.
It took only a minute of watching the redstoner float on the waves before Jevin got in sight, followed by Joe. The capitalist let out a breath he didn’t knew he was holding as they did. Joe did something, then a boat laid in the water next to Mumbo. The poet landed inside it, while the slime man came down in the water. It seemed to be on purpose, as Jevin was helping Joe push Mumbo out of the water and into the vessel. The redstoner himself looked disoriented at best, looking around him as though he couldn’t quite believe what was happening. He was neither helping nor struggling as they loaded him onto the boat.
Then Jevin looked up, straight at the drone, and made an okay sign in it’s direction. Immediately, Cub started typing in some minor changes in altitude and movement that would make it look as though the drone nodded. He sent the drone further on its route, and then he grabbed his communicator again.
<Cubfan135> Mumbo has been safely recovered.
For a short moment, nothing happened, but then small messages of relief came flooding in. It was almost as though they too had been dreading the worst, and were now for the first time in days celebrating a little victory. It didn’t matter that they didn’t really know what exactly had happened, it mattered that this was basically a morale boost. And that was something they all could use these days.
Cub sat back on his chair, a small smile on his lips. This was good. One problem dealt with. Two more to go, hopefully.
He didn’t notice the small green spider entering through the gap under the door, and he didn’t notice how it climbed up the wall. Cub didn’t see it find a nice spot, high in a corner, in which it made a small web, and he certainly didn’t notice it turning to observe everything that was going on in the room.
Notes:
id like to thank yall for your continuing support of this fic! reading your comments really brightens my day every time and just... how well received this is?? i would never have guessed that when i started writing. this is also far from over, i still have so much story left, so lets see where that'll take us, won't we?
as always, you are more than welcome to come yell at me both here and on tumblr (@fluid-quartz)
Chapter 33
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
With Mumbo still coughing and looking not entirely there, they decided to have Joe boat him back to the bunker. Both the Nether and flying would be faster, but neither of them would be safe for the redstoner in his current state, so they had chosen the only other viable option.
It did mean that dousing or at the very least controlling the fire fell entirely on Jevin and Tango. It sucked, but they’d manage. Somehow. They had to. Perhaps they could even figure out what had caused it in the first place, that seemed moderately important as well. The simplest hypothesis was that Mumbo had something to do with it, because it was too much of a coincidence that they found him half drowning this close to the fire. Plus, his skin had been greyish, almost as though there had been soot or ash on there before he went into the water.
They’d probably have to just ask Mumbo whenever they got back home. Speculating got them nowhere, and they had a hotter issue to deal with at that point. Quite literally, even.
Tango took lead, flying to the south for the first leg of their quest. The further they got, the less dense the smoke was as they came past it. It probably had something to do with the direction of the wind and how far the fire had spread already.
“You know what I just realised?” Jevin suddenly called out. “Joe took like a third of the buckets!”
The demon frowned, but not much could be done about it at that point.
“That sucks! Guess we’ll just have to create some extra sources at some point, then.”
“Yep, seems that way. Oh well!”
As ocean underneath them transitioned to land, the duo touched down, immediately switching their fireworks for buckets. Jevin had the honour of pouring out the first water, starting their barrier at the seaside. Then he immediately went to refill his bucket with seawater, because it was still viable to do so. Even before the first watersource had finished spreading, Tango had already put down the first of his buckets a few meters further from the sea. That way, the areas where the water flowed would partially overlap, making their barrier wider.
The process repeated with Jevin pouring out a second bucket an equal distance further, and it didn’t take long before the duo had found a good rhythm of placing watersource after watersource. They moved just faster than average walking speed due to having to take buckets from their inventory and then taking a short sprint to catch up with the other person. It worked so far, but the question was how long they could keep this up. At some point, the fire would catch up to them, and then things would start to get tricky. It didn’t help that they couldn’t predict how fast and to where it would spread, not even with Cub keeping an eye on the situation via his army of drones. There were simply too many factors, too many unknowns.
Their operation mostly ran on hope that they would be fast enough and confidence in their capabilities of high-speed water placement. It was a skill that most Hermits possessed and kept polished in case of sudden falls or hordes of endermen, and Tango and Jevin were no exception to that.
Every now and then, Jevin took out his communicator, checking both their coordinates and the next set of instructions Cub had given. No doubt that the capitalist was keeping track of their position and that of the fire, and was steering them accordingly. Right now, the instructions called for a diagonal stretch in order to stay parallel to the edge of the mountains and the fire they could see in the distance.
It was easy enough, given that they were still in a plains biome that was relatively flat, but plotting their course would probably get a lot more difficult in the sections of forest at the other sides of the mountains. They had only needed to deal with one ravine on their path so far, but if anything, that had made their task a lot faster. Tango had simply pointed out that the ravine was stone, stone, and more stone, and that wouldn’t burn. So by slightly moving their barrier to line up with the beginning and end of the ravine, they were effectively able to just skip quite some distance without worry.
There was still quite some distance to cover, though, perhaps more than they could on their own. The only way to find out was to simply keep going.
The room was shrouded in a comfortable twilight, with a glow coming from somewhere. The walls seemed directly hewn from some dark kind of stone, as the hallways had been, but unlike those hallways, these walls were devoid of cobwebs. There was only one of them here, a big one spanning over the back half of the space, and only a single creature that could loosely be described with “spider” sat in the middle of it.
He stood next to the web, facing it with his back turned to the wall. He held his arms and hands behind him, standing at attention should he get some kind of task. It probably wouldn’t happen any time soon, though. He had just returned from one, after all. Then again, he could not look into the thoughts of his liege, so who knew what would happen?
And so he stood, eyes trained on the wall across from him and the person standing there. He swore he knew him from somewhere, just… from where? Wherever it was from, it had to be long ago. The few memories that his brain managed to rake up with that same person in it were vague, deteriorated by time and other things. Though, to be fair, most of his memories were. And frankly, those didn’t really matter. They gave unnecessary context, created unwanted ties to others, and distracted him from what was really important here.
That, of course, was his liege. They would make the world a better place, and he had been chosen to help in that. It was an honour in itself to be allowed to stand there in their very presence for so long. Even after days, after weeks of standing there, he still felt that spark of pride in his heart. Sure, in the beginning there had still been a part of him that was vehemently against it, but that bit of him seemed to become more and more quiet over time, until it had finally completely shut up.
The servant let his eyes glide from the person in front of him to his liege. They sat still, an expression of joy on their face and a gaze set on infinity. The gentle glow that came from their eyes betrayed that something more was happening than them just zoning out. He knew that glow, for he had seen it many times before. They were looking. How it even worked he did not dare question, he just knew that his liege was able to look at places far away.
Given that it could well take quite some time before they were able to give orders once more, his eyes went back to that other person. Their garb was comparable, both made from that same beautiful dark green silk. They both wore the same symbol on their chest, and the servant knew that both of them had the same vibrant green eyes. The main difference between them was the fact that the other person seemingly had purple wings, and he himself was partially made of pink and yellow metal.
His cool gaze was met with one bordering on neutral but not entirely there yet. Some part of that other servant looked not entirely comfortable being there, but he got that. It was intimidating to stand this close to such a powerful creature for the first time, and the servant didn’t doubt that he had been the same. It didn’t matter now, though. He had gotten used to it all. The near permanent twilight, the tasks, the presence. The screams that sometimes echoed through the hallways, the strange prison rooms that screwed with his perception, the ever present cobwebs and spiders. The other servant would too, in time.
In the web, Arachne stirred, blinking once. The red glow faded from their eyes, and a chuckle sounded.
“The little flies… I overestimated them, it seems.”
He kept his mouth shut, knowing that if they wanted to expand on that, they would do so unprompted.
“Their defences are… weak, almost not present at all. They squander their potential.”
With that, they started moving, expertly treading over the threads of their web. Both servants followed them with their eyes, careful to not look in theirs.
“You.” They pointed to him, and he set a step forwards. “I have a task, little spider. Spread these in front of their little bunker. Should they attack… Send a few little flies into my web.” Arachne presented him with a handful of purple feathers, and ever so briefly, he thought he saw the other servant twitch. It had to be his imagination, though. Half a second later everything seemed fine again, as though nothing had happened. The servant bowed slightly.
“With pleasure, my liege.” Then he held out his hand to accept the feathers. He felt honoured to be sent out alone, as that reflected a certain amount of trust that his liege apparently had in him.
“Go.” Once more, the servant bowed, a little deeper this time, before walking to the door. In his mind, a few errant thoughts came drifting up, showing imagery of a bunker, still under construction. It showed a bearded old face, an amalgamation of buildings in different styles and sizes, an entrance into a hillside. He knew where he needed to go, and he knew how he could get there.
And so the servant went on his way, a sword hanging from each hip and the feathers tucked away in his inventory.
Notes:
this chapter did *not* want to come out of my fingers. urgh.
Chapter 34
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Judging by the sheer amount of information that had been explained to her in the past few hours, she was hard on her way to becoming some kind of backup admin. If only she had fingers to operate a communicator, and a voice she could talk with to point out the obvious flaws in the code of the Hermits.
Sadly, she had neither of those, and thus could only listen, a disgruntled expression on her face as she was passed between them. Sure, she got a lot of scritchies because of it, but the thing she wanted most right now was just to take a nap, preferably on something warm. Scars lap would do just fine, as would a furnace or the floor in front of a hearth. She’d even settle for the one with the blanket fort in the corner, that seemed mighty comfortable too.
For now, though, she was blinking at the helmeted man that sounded more desperate and frustrated by the minute as he continued explaining what he had been doing so far and why it should in theory work. He barely seemed to notice the way her tail wagged slowly, to signify her annoyance with this all.
“… and it goes through the list of all spawn points one by one. It then checks the coordinates against the ones Wels sent, with a margin of 100 in all directions in order to account for possible deviations. When the script finds a spawn point within that margin, it will add the person linked to that spawn point to a list, noting down the exact coordinates and the dimension as well. It all has to be run with administrator privileges otherwise the script will just throw errors and return null. But right now it just returns an empty list, which can’t be right. At the very least, Wels should be on the list, and he isn’t.”
She looked at him, blinking once more. If he’s not on the list then his spawn point isn’t at that place. It was that simple. Jellie let out a grumpy ‘mrow’, then swatted at his communicator.
“Hey, stop that!” He held up his communicator, out of her reach, his eyes darting towards Scar. “Your cat isn’t having it any more, I think.”
Her owner just chuckled, taking her from the helmeted man’s lap and holding here in his arms. He spoke up as he started gently petting her.
“Jellie! That’s not nice, girl, why did you do that, huh? Was that necessary?” His voice was soothing and familiar and safe, and the cat closed her eyes and purred as an answer. This was good. Above her, she heard Scar sigh.
“Apparently it was,” he stated, gaze once more switching to the helmeted man. In the corner, the blanket fort moved and started making sound too.
“Hey X, what happens when you just… I don’t know, manually check those points? If you’re sure that your script is correct, then maybe something is up with the points themselves,” a pleasant female voice sounded through the room.
“I can’t imagine that those being anything but wrong, really, but I’ll check.” He returned to typing for a bit, adjusting his script a little to just print the data of all spawn points, then pressed RUN.
He was silent for a bit as the results appeared on the screen. Then his face scrunched up in a frown.
“This... can’t be right. It just… How?!” He seemed slightly flabbergasted, and Jellie let out a satisfied meow.
“Oh, shut up you. You could have told me sooner.” In return, she looked at him smugly, and he sighed.
“You do realise you’re talking to a cat, right?” the blanket fort chimed in, and Scar chuckled too. However, the helmeted man ignored them, rambling on and exploring this train of thought.
“This means it goes wrong somewhere else. They didn’t change the spawn points, so… They somehow changed how the respawning works? Can they even do that? Wait, did they just… override the parameters, or…?”
He furiously started typing again, and Scar went to sit on one of the chairs. It immediately prompted Jellie to make herself comfortable on his lap. With her owner gently stroking the fur on her back, it didn’t take long for her to fall into a purring sleep.
It was quiet out on the ocean, save for the rhythmic sloshing of the oars. He was rowing at a pleasant speed, one he could keep up for a while without problems, back turned to where they were going. His eyes were mostly on Mumbo, who was still occasionally coughing heavily as he laid over his seat in what seemed to be an uncomfortable position. Joe noticed the other was mostly looking away, either over the low waves or up to the sky, basically anywhere that wasn’t him. He didn’t know why that was, but he did kind of want to find that out, and what had happened too.
The poet was about to speak up when the redstoner sank into another violent coughing fit, and he was sure he saw some water come up as well.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly when it died down again, worried about his friend. Mumbo sighed, thinking a moment before weakly nodding.
“Are you sure about that?”
This time, instead of a nod, he got a weak shaking of the head as response.
“That’s what I thought, if I’m being fair. Just… Mumbo, why where you even there? We were all looking for you, cause about your leave we didn’t have a clue.” There was worry on his face, together with curiosity. Mostly worry though, because he didn’t know what would have happened if Cub had not flown there with his drones at that time. They could’ve lost him, right there and then.
Instead of words, though, Mumbo was silent, responding with a shrug while looking even more away. Perhaps the other man thought Joe wouldn’t notice the clearly visible guilt on his face if he did that. It made the poet think. Had Mumbo received another task, that had just gone wrong? No doubt they would have known about that then, Cub would have warned them. It had to be something else. The question was what.
“Did you have anything to do with the fire?” he asked quietly, not accusing him of anything. It would just give him a puzzle piece if he knew the answer. Many questions would leave him with pieces, but this could very well be a corner piece, or an edge piece at the very least. Something that would make the rest of the puzzle easier to solve.
Mumbo very briefly glanced towards him, a certain pain in his eyes. He started to nod, then halted, gaze shifting over to the water once again.
“Yeah...” he muttered softly, almost too soft to hear over the sounds of the waves. Was that the vague outline of a puzzle piece appearing? Yes?
“Do you know what caused it?” Again, that soft voice. Again, the pause afterwards, to let the other decide how long he needed before answering. Joe saw Mumbo tense up for a moment, closing his eyes shut before rubbing his forehead. The poet was sure he saw the other man’s lips moving, but what he said he didn’t know. Lipreading was sadly not one of the skills he possessed, not yet at the very least.
“Could you speak up a little? I couldn’t hear you, not even a tittle.” He slowed his rowing pace by a bit, looking straight at Mumbo. He could just see the conflict on his face, even though the other tried to hide it. Everyone knew the redstoner just couldn’t keep a pokerface at all, and it was just proven once again. He heard a sigh, but the other was still not looking at him.
“… cobwebs. I-” A series of coughs interrupted him once again, but Joe had the time. After all, he was the one that decided how long this trip would take.
“I set them on fire. Thought it would get rid of them.” A puzzle piece, in colour this time. As to why… Still no reason nor rhyme.
Joe was silent in response, just tilting his head slightly as he kept looking at Mumbo. Perhaps if he stayed quiet for a bit longer, he’d feel prompted to say more. It was very interesting, though. He got why Mumbo of all people would want to destroy some cobwebs, he just didn’t know why he didn’t clue in the others or how burning a few of the things would lead to an entire biome turning into a raging inferno. It didn’t make sense yet in his head. Not until he uncovered some more pieces of this puzzle, and he had no doubt that he would.
“I think I misjudged how well they burnt, there were so many of them...” his voice was weak, but still audible at the very least and that was something.
“How many?” Only now did Mumbo look at Joe, with a tired and guilty look in his eyes.
“They were just everywhere.”
The poet noticed the guilt, but couldn’t quite place it. His guess would be that he felt guilty because the mountains were now burning, that made most sense. The other option would be that he was responsible for the cobwebs, and that was… not very likely. Unless one of his tasks had had that as result, but how could Joe ask anything related to that? Mumbo didn’t know they knew, and it was best he would be kept in the dark, else their enemy would know in no time what was going on.
Still, he had to ask about it, didn’t he? If only to rule out that possibility. Then again, why would Mumbo first cause the cobwebs and then destroy them? That didn’t make much sense. Joe frowned lightly.
“Did you know they’d be there when you got here?” he finally just asked, and the redstoner shook his head.
“No, I didn’t. I just…happened to fly here when I found them.” There was a slight tremble in his voice, a small change in tone and speed of his words. His eyes once more darted around to anything that wasn’t Joe, and his fingers were fidgeting with his buttons again.
To the poet, it was clear something about what he said wasn’t true.
“So you just flew out here for no reason, on your own? Don’t you know we’d worry if you go out all alone?” Perhaps it wasn’t entirely fair of him to throw in that the other Hermits worried. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely the nicest strategy for getting answers, but it would more than probably work.
It was once again silent in the boat for a bit, in which Mumbo very intently stared at the bottom of the boat. Joe just looked at the redstoner, one eyebrow raised, waiting until he’d get an answer. And he was stubborn enough to win a silent staring competition. It also gave him time to just study the other man, seeing a variety of emotions pass over his face like a theatre play. More guilt. Stage left: enter sadness. Exeunt, chased by helplessness. Frustration entered, then left once more, and then got replaced by a little bit of anger. Perhaps they were one and the same emotion, perhaps one was simply a logical implication of the other. Whatever it was, fear came in, then anger left. It was joined by a tad more helplessness, and then the fear and helplessness joined and merged into acceptance.
“I just… I needed to get out of there, you know? It’s my fault that False, Doc and Wels went, and when we got the death message… I just… I… I didn’t want to deal with that. I didn’t want them all to look at me like it was my fault, so I ran. Flew. Same difference.” Mumbo sighed. “And so I came here.”
Joe looked at him, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly. He saw none of the usual tells, so the redstoner was telling the truth. His gut told him that there had to be something more, but he didn’t know what. And so he did the only thing he really could do at that point.
“You know? That’s valid.”
Then he sped up his rowing pace once more, telling himself the almost relieved sigh he saw meant nothing.
Notes:
this chapter is slightly longer than the others, cause joe wasnt done talking yet. whoops.
come yell at me on tumblr! @fluid-quartz
Chapter 35
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Ever since he had left, they had been discussing about what to do about Grian, how they could get him back. They knew he was still in there, they had seen it, ever so briefly, they had heard it. The question was how to snap him out of whatever Sally was. They needed to figure out how to break the spider’s influence. The Endbusters knew that if he returned, they had to be ready for it, because they would only get one chance to get this right.
“Okay, so, we know he was able to come through to us once or twice, but we don’t know exactly what triggered it. If we can figure that out, we can find a way to replicate it. My guess would be on some kind of personal connection, showing that we care and that we are his friends,” Iskall stated, looking at the other two in turn.
“I don’t know, man, you think power-of-friendship-ing this would work? Cause if so, we’re gonna need to step up our game. When he tried speaking he was visibly straining and still only managed to bring out one word, and that was after you tried shaking your feelings into him. It makes me worry about what we’re gonna need to completely get him to be Grian again,” Ren sighed, a frown on his face and fingers idly rubbing over the stubble on his chin. Python was tapping out a rhythm on the slab as he sat, sunken deep in thought.
“Let’sh jusht try to hug him until fat Shally vershion of him givesh up. And fen tell him shtoriesh of ush ash we do fat, ‘caushe he can’t leave anyway fen,” he mused, voice sounding as though he wasn’t entirely mentally present.
“That sounds… Maybe just strange enough to work?” Iskall pushed some hair away from his face as he looked over at Python.
“Would that be enough, though?” Ren’s frown deepened, and without missing a beat the snakeman answered.
“Do you have a better idea, fen?”
“Well, yes, we could… Uh… Yeah, we might just… No, that wouldn’t work either, we could… Uhm… I… No. No, I don’t have anything better,” he sighed, a little bit flustered perhaps, “not right now at the very least.”
“Then let’s roll with this plan for now. If anyone has any brilliant ideas, though, please do share them.” Letting out a breath, his eyes wandered over to the plates that ‘Grian’ had left for them. He didn’t even want to know what the goop on them was, let alone eat it, and he was still feeling pretty certain about that. It had been… An amount of hours since they got here. It didn’t yet feel like a day, and he was more than able to resist hunger for some time more. And even then, the swede was quite sure that the other two would help him not touch it, just like he would do the same for them. Who knew what it was, what poison could be mixed into it.
Besides, Wels had had contact with the other Hermits, they could just as well wait to be freed first. They could be here any moment now. Aaaaany moment.
So far, they had managed to steer clear of the fire. With a bit of help of the wind blowing towards the sea, the flames hadn’t spread out far from the mountains, not yet, only catching on a tree here and there. Those fires were quickly put out as they went, actually sticking closer to the edge of the forest now to minimise the damage as much as possible. Was it going to work? Only time would tell with certainty, but for now their barrier of water certainly seemed to help. The duo had even passed the halfway point if they should believe Cub, the deciduous forest switching to hilly taiga when they crossed over a river. It was also their moment to quickly refill all of their buckets before going on, because the next checkpoint was quite a ways away.
As they filled, Jevin cast a worried look at the sky. The sun had moved over their heads and was now somewhere behind the mountains and the big plume of smoke coming from them, casting the world in shadow. The majority of the light was either of the soft diffuse variety, or were the harsh and hot rays coming from the wildfire.
“We should hurry, else this is gonna be an all-nighter. Just surrounding it, I mean. Whatever is burning in those mountains is going to eventually run out anyway, but the woods out here, those not so much.”
Tango looked up too, double checking what the slime man had said.
“Yeah… I’m not overtly enthusiastic about firefighting with mobs trying to get at us, but it seems we don’t really have another choice if we want to keep the forests. And the Halloween district. Let’s not forget the Halloween district.” His eyes followed the river, and in the distance he could still vaguely see the giant phantom statue that X had built. Would be a shame if that were to go up in flames. “Gotta say, though. I’ll gladly offer up these forests if that means we won’t die. If the mobs get too much, we’ll just flee and continue at another point.”
“That’s acceptable. Not a solution I want to have to resort to, but acceptable nonetheless.” Jevin finished shoving the last few buckets into his shulkerbox and stood up. “Ready when you are.”
“Just one more bucket, gimme a sec.” With a splash, the bucket went under water, and a few seconds later the demon too stood up, nodding at Jevin to go for it. The latter was asking Cub for the right direction to go in now, accounting for the wind and the fact that nightfall would be soon.
“North-North-West for a while, it seems. And… We should watch out for spiders…?” The slime man frowned when passing through the last part of the message, not entirely getting it. “Those shouldn’t be able to spawn just yet, it’s still too bright out for that.” Tango simply shrugged.
“If he’s warning us for that, I guess there’s spiders out. Best to keep it into account, then.”
With that taken care of, the duo started moving once more, their next heading taking them rather close past the rocky inclines. From this distance, they could see the flaming remains of webs covering large parts of the stone, but they did not have the time to stand still and examine that. It was merely something they stored away in their thoughts to look at later. Or to have Cub look at, or someone else on the tech team. It could very well be something important, but right now, conserving the forests seemed more important.
Once more, they fell back into their pattern of getting a bucket, placing water, and short sprints to catch up to the other once more. The duo covered distance fast, the barrier of water ever growing.
Not too much further, though, they found out what Cub had meant with ‘spiders’, because they found them. Many of them. Spiders that looked like venomous cave spiders except for their size. These were a lot larger. It seemed like they had all fled away from the fire, and were now hanging from the trees, sitting on stray rocks, chittering around on the forest floor. Quite a few stopped what they were doing the moment they noticed Tango and Jevin, though. Instead, they stood still, just looking at them.
Then one started slowly coming closer. Then another, and another, and another. They picked up speed as well, coming for them fast.
Notes:
Sorry for it being a bit shorter this time, I may or may not have gotten distracted by rewriting a song to fit this fic. Whoops.
Chapter 36
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
He arrived at the main island as the sun touched the horizon. The trees and various buildings cast long shadows, which he gratefully used to move around in. He tried not to get seen for as long as possible, because he still had quite a distance to cover, but he knew his colours would make that difficult. Pink and yellow stood out, even with some of the frankly ridiculous builds that were dotted around on the land. Then again, he knew that it would be fine if he encountered just a singular person, or even a small group of them. The edges of his swords were honed sharp, and their weight laid comfortably in his hands. He had no qualms about sending people to his liege, none at all. He might have had, weeks or months ago, but that voice in his head had long stopped screaming.
The servant continued his path, vaguely recognising the surroundings as though he had been there before. Perhaps he had been, before he was who he was now. It would make the most sense if that was how he knew. Still, there was no real way of him validating that, and so he shoved the thought out of his mind for now. He had one goal and one goal only, and that was to do what his liege had told him to do.
Basking in the twilight of the room, he stood, arms behind him, shoulders straightened. He felt a strange mix of rejoice, horror and calm as he watched Arachne slurp something from what looked like a cocoon of spider silk. Rejoice and calm had the overtones, while the horror was more of a secret chord playing through it all. It didn’t fit the melody, and Sally tried getting it out of his system as best as he could. That was not his emotions. That was not right, and he should get rid of it. There was nothing to be afraid of here. Nothing too grotesque to watch. It was all fine. He was where he was supposed to be.
And how could he not enjoy seeing his master eat to get even stronger? It was beautiful, one of the best sights. The ease with which they handled it? The grace they displayed as they moved? Both wonderful.
With a very small smile on his face, he averted his gaze, in order to stare straight ahead, to the point where the other servant had been standing and the wall behind it. While he still felt a tad unworthy of standing here, it was a honour too. To be this close to his master, waiting to hear the next request that he could satisfy them with? It was almost heaven. Not quite, there were not enough spiders present for that, but it was close enough. Close enough for him, in any case.
In the video room, Cub was on the edge of his chair as he watched the situation unfold. His eyes were glued to the feed of one of the drones around the fire, keeping track of the fight as it erupted. There were so many spiders, and just Tango and Jevin to fight them. While he had a lot of faith in them, he was all but cursing out loud for them to get out of there. If there was something he most definitely didn’t want to do, it was watching his friends die live on stream. That would just be messed up. Completely messed up. His leg was bouncing up and down, and he had been chewing on his lip for the last minute or so. He was nervous, and since no one was there to watch him, he was comfortable with showing it.
That was, until the door slammed open, Doc standing in the doorway.
“How is the firefighting going?” he asked out loud, making Cub jump. He raised up a finger towards Doc without looking at him, signalling him to keep quiet or at the very least tone down the volume.
“They’re no longer fighting fire. It’s spiders. Quite a lot of them.” Still, he didn’t tear his eyes away from the moving images. He could hear Doc walk closer, though, and take place in the seat next to him.
“Craaaap…. That’s a lot indeed. Big ones, too.” The cyborg bent forwards, looking closer at the screen too. “How far away is that? I’m wondering if we can send backup in time. Though… They have elytra, why aren’t they just flying away?”
The capitalist breathed in through his teeth, frowning.
“I don’t know. I still hope they will, because this… I don’t think they’re going to win. Not even with the water they placed down to have them walk around. There’s simply too many of them.”
Doc hummed in response, his eyes gliding over the monitors. The last fight with spiders was still very fresh in his mind, and while it was very tempting to watch it unfold, he also knew that he would probably not like it. Not if it could result in another death. Perhaps that was why he caught the movement on the other feeds. Random chance could still explain how little zombies and creepers were moving about and how many spiders were there in their stead, but it couldn’t explain the person he saw, currently making their way through the medieval district. A person he knew. A person he recognised.
“Cub… We have an issue.” He simply pointed at the screen, hoping that the capitalist would follow his finger. Without him noticing, his breathing had become shallower, quicker. He was long happy that Biffa wasn’t at the same place as the torrent of spiders flooding Tango and Jevin, but he wasn’t too sure whether this was any better. Not if he was moving towards the bunker. Not if he still had those two swords hanging from his hips. Not if he was trying to not be seen. It could literally not mean good in any way, shape, or form, and Doc wasn’t sure on what to do now. Warn everyone, get them all inside, seal the door. That would be his plan, but he didn’t know if that could realistically be done in time before Biffa would arrive at the bunker.
“What is i- oh shit. Is that…?”
“Yeah...”
“I’m gonna warn the others. Like, right now. This is Bad, capital B.” Cub stood up, shoving his chair backwards so hard it almost toppled over. “Can you keep an eye on this all for a moment?”
Doc simply nodded, eyes following Biffa as he moved through the shadows of the approaching night. Somewhere, he was angry at him for killing Wels. Somewhere else, he had the feeling that the man hadn’t been quite himself at that moment either. He had seemed to be under the control of that spidery bastard, and Doc knew he wanted to get him out of there. He couldn’t stand watching his friends suffer any more than he could stand seeing them controlled by something evil.
And from his seat in the video room, he could see both, clear as day. Tango seemed to be yelling something at Jevin as they continued stabbing at the spiders. Biffa moved ever closer, passing by the place the Civil War had taken place, parts of both the shopping district and the modern district visible in the backdrop. Doc’s hands were clasped around the edge of the table, the fingers of his mechanical hand actually scraping into the wood without him noticing. The cyborg was tense, and he wasn’t sure if that came from anger, from fear or from something else entirely.
Was he going to lose friends tonight as well? Had four on a single day not been enough? Did he have to lose more than that? His eyes quickly moved between the screens, continuously catching bits from both the feed with the firefighters and the one with Biffa on them. Both seemed to work to a climax, with spiders closing in on all side and the distance to the bunker decreasing quickly. Doc could see Jevin trying to pull out his rockets between two blocking motions with his sword, as Tango desperately tried keeping the spiders off. With the amount of dead arachnids already laying around them, they were quickly running out of manoeuvring space, and he could only hope that they could get out in time.
The situation was all too familiar, and he’d rather not see a repeat of what had happened earlier that afternoon. Doc really didn’t want to, and yet, he couldn’t stop himself from looking between the two feeds. His breathing only became shallower, and he wouldn’t have noticed he was shaking if he wasn’t making a mug on the table rattle with it.
In the end, he decided to just focus on Biffa for now. That problem was still a ways away, at the very least, that was something they could prepare for. And they should, in his opinion. They won nothing by simply letting that man roam free. If anything, they should try and capture him, try to get him back to his normal self. The one not controlled by their enemy. Their fellow Hermit. Their friend.
And when his communicator buzzed once, he did not dare lift his gaze away from the feed with Biffa on it. He did not want to see if it was yet another death message. He knew he’d eventually have to check, but not right now. He couldn’t. He’d just imagine it was a simple normal message for now, and deal with it all later.
Notes:
i dont know where doc came from, he just waltzed in and took control of cubs perspective. whoops.
as always, if you want to yell at me, you're more than welcome to!
Chapter 37
Notes:
tw for a very brief description of death at the beginning of the second perspective. just skip the second paragraph if you dont want to read it.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The mood in the bunker had shifted drastically as Cub brought the news. Tasks in preparation for the raid were dropped, and weaponry and armour were donned instead. They weren’t sure what to expect, but the Hermits did know that if at all possible, they should contain Biffa, to try and get him back from that spidery bastard. The question was how much they were willing to sacrifice for that.
And so everyone that was at least a little bit redstone savvy found themselves in the area in front of the bunker, digging out holes here and there for machinery to go in. Really, they just needed to lure him into an area surrounded by double piston extenders, that should work at the very least temporarily. How they would then deal with the murderous robot in a box of stone was the second question, one they could probably deal with by adding enough obsidian around it before he managed to break through. Their timing would need to be perfect, though, if they triggered the trap too early or too late things could and probably would go horribly wrong. And this only worked if he indeed intended to go to where they were creating the trap, if not… well. Then there would be no one to trap.
TFC was the overseer for the project, considering that he knew where to find all the resources needed, as well as where it was safe to dig and where it would be less than optimal. It mostly boiled down to him having to herd Hermits to the right places, which was almost as difficult, if not more, as herding cats was. Sure, once they got into a flow things were fine, but the moment they ran out of anything it would just be a chaos, so the old man was instructing those not building redstone to go through the chests inside to find as many supplies as possible. Mostly pistons, repeaters and redstone dust, though. Those were the most important for this project, together with as much obsidian as they could scrape together.
In his pocket, he felt a buzz, signifying that he received a new message. Given that a few of the others looked up and at each other, they too had received it. There were only a few reasons for receiving one, though, and barely any of them were good.
“You kids continue on diggin’, I’ll check it out,” he stated loudly as he dug his communicator out of his pocket. TFC noticed that at least Impulse and Zedaph were looking at him, slowly shovelling away some more dirt, but he got that. Their buddy Tango was out there, quite probably in harms way with all the fire going on. The old man could barely ask them not to worry. And so, he tried to keep his face as neutral as possible when he read the message.
>> iJevin was slain by Spider
“Shit.” He couldn’t completely dodge his eyebrows knitting together, trying to think about what would be the best thing to do now. He could pretend it was nothing, but he also knew the others would find out eventually. If anything, he should tell them, as clearly as possible, and then get everyone back to work once more. Yes, it royally sucked that Jevin had fallen, but it if they didn’t get this trap up and running as soon as possible they would be even more screwed. There was simply no time to grieve.
“Listen up for a minute, will ya?” he said, looking around. There was seriousness in his voice, and it took no time at all for the other Hermits to drop their work for a moment. “I’m gonna be blunt for a moment. Jevin died just now. One of them damned spiders got ‘em. Which means it’s even more important for us to get this trap done, ‘cause we can’t afford to lose another one of y’all. So please, try and continue workin’ on it. It’s the best way to avenge him right now.”
Zedaph and Impulse looked almost relieved with the news, while the others looked various levels of shocked.
“Any word on Tango?” Impulse asked, and TFC shook his head.
“Nothin’. Best not to speculate, though, it ain’t getting us nowhere useful.” The other nodded to that.
“Gotcha,” he sighed, “well, this extender ain’t gonna build itself, guys.” And with that, they slowly went to work again, a lot quieter than before, some hands shaking and some eyes teary.
I have to move I have to move come on fireworks work please work you need to work there’s too much of them we have to get out we have to-
Logically, he knew that he had died, he had felt the pain as he got bitten again and again. And yet, he still found himself trying to pull the string of a rocket as he came to. Of course, there was no rocket in sight, and neither were his elytra or his armour or anything else he had been carrying. He did still feel the familiar weight of his communicator in the pouch of his sweater, though, so that was something.
First things first, though, he had to find his bearings and then get a move on. Jevin wasn’t too sure where he was, but any place with black stone and glowy green runes qualified as “evil” in his book. The cobwebs in the corners only strengthening that qualification. Given that he had no idea how long he had before someone would come, the slime man swung his legs over the edge of the table he had been laying on and hopped to the ground. First priority: getting out of this room. Second priority: getting out of whatever building he was in. Third priority: getting home. It wasn’t a sound plan, but guidelines nonetheless.
Without checking out the room further, he made haste to get to the door, also made from dark wood. The green glow in the room hadn’t even stopped dimming as he went through, ending up in a hallway with a clear staircase down on one end, a bunch of entrances to other rooms, and a turn where the hallway went around a corner. His instincts told him to head up, up, and out, and so it didn’t take Jevin long to decide to head to the right. After all, going downstairs wouldn’t help with going upwards.
He moved as quickly and quietly as he could muster, erring heavily on the side of speed rather than silence. The slime that made up his bare feet stuck to the floor only a little bit, making a soft schluck sound with every step he took. Jevin was just about to turn the corner when he heard footsteps coming from the other side. One pair sounded like bare skin on stone, the others… Skittering was probably the correct word, though it didn’t entirely convey what he heard.
He cursed under his breath, looking to both sides before deciding to dive into one of the other rooms. There was no sound coming from there, which made it at the very least a little bit safer than going around the corner right now. He’d just wait there until whomever was there had passed. If they would pass at all. It would be just his luck if he fled into the room they needed to be in.
Jevin took cover directly around the corner of the doorway, pressing himself up to the wall as far as he could. Which was quite far, given that most of him consisted of slime, making him quite flexible in multiple dimensions. He breathed out softly, eyes half closed, before looking around. There were cobwebs everywhere, with neatly organised packages wrapped in spidersilk hanging from them in rows.
Those are – or were, perhaps – large insects . I hope. I so hope those were insects.
He swallowed uncomfortably as he heard the footsteps approaching, and he glanced over his shoulder, through the doorway. From where he was he could just about see the door he had come through, as well as a bit of wall with more cobweb and a few skittering small spiders on them. He sure hoped those wouldn’t somehow give him away.
A nd then, a few seconds later, something moved into his field of vision. Long legs, covered in a dark green carapace. A torso that seemed almost superimposed on top of the lower half of a spider, with too many arms sticking out of it, a ll plated in that same dark carapace. Large mandibles, almost glowing red eyes. Eyes that luckily didn’t seem to notice him.
The spider was then followed by someone that seemed human enough. Honey blonde hair, pale skin, a dark sleeveless coat that looked as though it was made from layers upon layers of dyed cobwebs. And purple wings, folded up on their back. Wings Jevin recognised, though they seemed very much out of place on that person. Speaking of which, that person seemed out of place there too. Had he not been kidnapped? Then why was he here, freely walking around?
Jevin frowned, not entirely understanding. Then again, he didn’ t quite have time to try and understand. He needed to get out of there, before they looked into the room he had fled from. Once more, he breathed out, then in, and decided this may be the only chance he had to sneak behind them. After all, if he could see them , they would be able to see him the moment they turned around.
The slime man pushed himself away from the wall, and slipped through the doorway, walking backwards as quietly as he could, while still keeping an eye on the two people approaching the door. His eyes shot to the side every now and then to check if the turn was there already, and Jevin was ready to bolt when it was.
And then he saw Grian stop in his tracks, and his head slowly turned to look over his shoulder. Glowing green eyes locked eyes with his, and in that moment, Jevin realised that this might not be the builder he knew.
Notes:
sorry for the few days without update, this too was a chapter that didn't want to come out of my fingers.
in any case, thank you all for commenting/leaving kudos/sending messages/reading, it means a lot to me ^^
Chapter 38
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
He found himself sitting at the edge of the slabs, socks touching the ground. He was facing the bit of blackness where he knew the entrance was, and he had been waiting. Eventually someone would have to come, be it the spider or Grian or Biffa or the Hermits. Sure, Wels knew that it could take quite some time, given that the plate of… ‘food’, for the lack of a better word, had been brought not too long ago. And yet he waited. There was not much else he could do in here, after all, and he could only work out and go through the motions of combat for so long before his muscles started disagreeing with him.
Every now and then his eyes wandered over to the plate, a morbid curiosity taking root in his mind. He wanted to know what it was, but he also very much did not want to know at the same time. He had seen the storage rooms, he could easily take an educated guess as to what had been in the little cocoons.
After forcing his eyes back to the wall for the umpteenth time, Wels sighed and pushed himself to his feet. This was going to keep distracting him, he just knew it. He walked over to the plate, then stood still, looking at the plate from up high. It was a reddish brown goo, with some bone-like bits sticking out from it here and there, almost as though the flesh had just melted off of them. It didn’t look like proper food at all, and Wels would much rather have had water and bread instead. Especially when what was given to him looked more like some kind of building material or waste product than something that was supposed to be edible.
Just a whiff, and then I’m going to put it out of sight.
Wels picked up the plate, and even before he got it anywhere near the vicinity of his nose he decided that he didn’t want to smell more of it. It smelt putrid, like rotten flesh, except ten times worse at the very least. With one hand he pinched his nostrils shut, then he hastily walked over as far to the back of his cell as he could to put it down there once more. No way that he was going to eat that. None at all.
And then he found himself sitting on the slabs once more, idly unbraiding and braiding his hair, and then doing the same for the longer hairs at the end of his tail. Was it necessary? No, not at all, but it kept his hands busy as he was focussing on the wall. And that was worth something. Perhaps he could even try out some styles he never had time for usually. He seemed to have a lot of it on his hands now.
With a lot of begging and hope in his eyes, he put his index finger to his mouth, signing for the other to stay silent and please not betray him. Jevin continued moving backwards, at a faster pace now, but was ready to turn around and just bolt if it was needed. ‘Grian’ tilted his head to the side, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly into a grin. His finger lifted, pointing at Jevin. He seemed just about to say something when the glow in his eyes flickered, an incredible amount of strain on his face. The motion his hand made could have easily been a spasm, except that it also looked an incredible lot as though ‘Grian’ was shooing him away.
It was not something the slime man wanted to try and figure out, especially not with the glow returning and the strain completely falling away as though nothing had happened. And so he started booking it even before the other started speaking. Did he make more noise than he wanted? Yes. Did he go fast? Hell yes.
“Master… Someone is snooping,” he could hear behind him in a voice that sounded so familiar and at the same time strange. It was the inflections, the way that the boundless energy the builder generally expressed seemed ripped away from his words.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope, not Grian. Not at all Grian. I need to get out of here. Now, before they catch up.
He skidded around the corner, unsure of where he was going but knowing he needed to find the exit some way or another. Or at the very least find a hiding spot, though he wasn’t too sure how successful that would be. After all, he didn’t know this place, and he had no doubt that his pursuers did . He could hear a command being given, footsteps that went from walking to running to… not being there at all? Instead, he heard something flapping. Wings.
Internally, he was cursing. He knew flying was a lot faster than running, even in hallways like these. Especially with an experienced flyer like Grian. Or Not Grian. He wasn’t too sure what to call the builder right now. Not that he really had time to think about that. He just needed to move, move, move! If possible, through a bunch of winding passages, something with a lot of corners. Where and if he could find that, though… It was unlikely.
His eyes rapidly checked out the doorways he shot past, hoping to find a staircase up or something that looked like a door to the outside or some other way out. Nothing of the sort came into view, though, not just yet. The process was not aided by the fact that there were actually doors here, unlike in the other part of the hallway. Some were open, revealing more cobwebs teeming with spiders of a variety of sizes or other, more empty rooms. Others were closed, and he could only imagine what laid behind them.
Behind him, the sound of beating wings came closer and closer by the second. If only he had his elytra and rockets right now, that would make things at the very least a bit more fair. And yet, he didn’t have them. Just his wits and an amount of energy that would eventually run out, probably sooner rather than later.
In front, he saw an open door and something that looked a lot like some kind of temple. Including a very large, very lifelike statue of that spider thing he had seen in passing. Candles around it burnt with green flames, illuminating the entire room with an uneasy glow. Jevin decided right there and then that he would not be going in there. Not at all. Not if he had… There! Another corner he could skid around. At the end of the hallway was a staircase up, and there seemed to be very little doorways here. Only a few on his right hand side, and just one large one on the left. It was closed, too, and it was basically the first one he encountered where the doorway was not framed with cobwebs, which was weird. Still, this was not the time for thinking about it. There was a staircase he could go up. Maybe it was even the way out.
A hopeful smile appeared on his face as he pushed himself that extra bit to go faster. Would it be up the stairs, or even further to the exit?
Almost there almost there almost there keep going Jev keep going you got this you-
Something heavy impacted with his back, sending him tumbling to the ground. That same something came tumbling after him, landing on top of him. And then that something put its knee right between his shoulderblades, pushing him down.
“Oops. Caught you.”
There were probably people out there that would question his decision to run straight into the flames the moment he got the chance. Not Tango, though. Spiders burnt, and he didn’t, not as quickly at the very least. Such were the pros of basically growing up in the Nether. Sure, he did feel the heat immediately, the oppressively thick air heavy on his lungs, but he could handle this for at least a little bit. At least long enough to get out his elytra and his rockets. At least long enough to flip off some spiders before launching himself into the air.
Their mission had gone so wrong so fast. He hadn’t even noticed the arachnids practically sneaking up on Jevin until it was way too late to do anything about them, and before he knew the body of the other had faded out of existence, everything he had carried with him dropping to the floor. Some of it he had managed to pick up, but most… Most was still there, on the ground, waiting.
Tango circled over the place where they had fought, seeing what he could still do. He knew he probably should try to go on placing the water, but the demon found himself unwilling to swoop down and continue where he left off. It was still overrun with spiders, and for now it seemed like the fire stuck to the mountains.
He pulled out a few more rockets to gain some altitude before changing to a gentle glide. Tango got his communicator from one of the pockets on his vest, and opened it up to his private messages. Yeah, texting and flying was a bad combination, but right now he didn’t entirely care.
<Tango Tek> yo, cub, what do we do now?
<Tango Tek> do i go back to the bunker, or…?
<Tango Tek> i need some pointers man
<Cubfan135> Come back ASAP. We got a situation here.
<Tango Tek> gotcha, omw
He shoved his communicator back into his pocket, circled over the end of their little line of water once more before setting course for the mountains. The updraft generated by the flames took him high into the air, and off he went, wondering what the hell was going on over at the bunker that they needed him to stop fighting a wildfire in order to help.
Notes:
*sally voice* whoopsie
come yell at me on tumblr @fluid-quartz
Chapter 39
Notes:
TW for violence. Stop reading at "In one smooth motion,", start at "You obviously know nothing"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The news about Jevin having died came and went, and Mumbo couldn’t help but feel guilty about it. After all, if he had not set the webs on fire, there would not have been a need to send people to fight it, and Jevin would not have been at the wrong place at the wrong time. His fault, as Wels’ death had been.
Even before he tried to bring it up, though, Joe had already looked him straight into the eyes to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that he could not have known, and that Jevin had gone voluntarily. Every attempt at discussion was met with a barrage of words like only the poet could craft, and eventually Mumbo just gave up trying to go against it. It was too difficult, and it was a lot easier to just wallow in self pity.
And thus they sat in silence once more, with Mumbo looking out over the waves blankly. Two of his friends had died because of him, and he really didn’t want to think about the possibility of more of them dying. And yet, his mind was stuck on a loop of “who’s next?”, a question he didn’t want an answer to either.
Slowly, ever so slowly, land became visible in the distance ahead of them. He recognised the outline of Sahara, and the large towering cylinder that was Grian’s base just to the left of it. Soon he would have to face the others once more, there was no doubt about it. A sigh rolled over his lips, not ready at all. Still, it wasn’t like he had a choice or anything. So instead he just sat, occasionally coughing up the last water from his lungs and tried to more or less relax. There wasn’t much else he could do right now anyway, not without worrying basically everyone.
Minutes later, the boat ran ashore with a soft thud, the prow end gliding onto the sandy beach of the futuristic district with ease. The sun had set, in the meanwhile, and the duo would have to navigate the last bit to the bunker by the light of the scattered torches and sea pickles and lanterns of various kinds. There were voices in the distance, too, familiar voices, so that helped as well.
“Aaaaalmost there,” Joe said next to him, pointing at where people were moving about in the distance. It looked like they were digging and placing things back, but then the noise of pistons firing rapidly sounded and a circle of ground raised up. It made Mumbo frown. You’d think they have better things to do than mess about with double piston extenders… Still, there had to be some kind of reason for it. There simply had to.
“What are they doing over there?” he in the end just asked out loud. Joe looked at it for a moment, then shrugged.
“You tell me, mister Mumbo ‘Redstone’ Jumbo.”
“No, I know what they’re doing, I just don’t know why.”
“I don’t actually know. It might be a thing they’re building for show…?”
Whatever it was, the duo would find out soon enough. They walked onto the clearing in front of the entrance, announcing their presence by greeting the other Hermits. After all, accidentally scaring someone by suddenly standing behind them seemed like a horrible, horrible idea with the current events going on.
“Ah! Mumbo, Joe, you’re back! You two should head inside, we’re just finishing up here.” Cub came walking up to them, gesturing behind him. The redstoner peered at where he was pointing, seeing Impulse and Zedaph busy with placing some grass blocks to fill up the last signs of digging.
“Finishing up… what exactly, if I may ask? What’s the pistons for?” His curiosity had been piqued, but before Cub could open his mouth to answer, Doc came running from the bunker.
“He’s about to cross the river! Everyone inside, now!” It certainly got everyones attention, with Zed quickly putting down a last block, Xisuma picking up the last shulker box that was still standing around, and Impulse just booking it inside.
“Wait, who is-”
“Inside. I’ll explain it inside. Go, go, go!”
The entrance to the bunker seemed deserted as he arrived. Pathetic. Are they so arrogant they think they don’t need guards? The servant didn’t even bother to hang back at the edge of the clearing to scout it out, instead opting to go forwards. He had a task, after all. And should someone be waiting in ambush… Well. He had swords and he was not afraid to use them. Especially not when his liege had asked him to do so if needed.
As he walked, he took the purple feathers from his inventory, holding them in his offhand. One of his swords was nonchalantly held in his main hand, a dangerous aura of not really caring radiating from him. The servant halted right in front of the entrance, that stood wide open. Really? First no guards, now they just leave the door open? He raised an eyebrow, then looked around. He knew there was a camera somewhere, and he wanted to make sure it was clear who left the message.
There it is… The servant spotted the lens jutting out from one of the shadowy corners of the entrance, and turned towards it a little bit. Then, with a neutral expression on his face, he held out the hand with the feathers in it, ready to drop them. As the first of the feathers started floating down, though, multiple things happened at the same time.
“Now!” sounded from inside the bunker, and pistons rapidly fired. The earth around him raised up and revealed the cobblestone underneath, forming a wide circle around him. Beyond it, he heard multiple sets of rapid footsteps, followed by the unmistakable sound of more blocks being placed.
Even before the rest of the feathers had touched the ground, he already had his second sword in his hand as well. This was not going according to plan. How had they seen him, how could they have known? The servant moved over to the wall furthest from the entrance, examining it quickly. Two blocks high, with a top layer of dirt he should be able to dig through quite quickly. And once he’d have taken that out, he’d be free once more. His liege would be very unhappy if he were to get captured.
“Step away from the wall, Biffa, or I’ll shoot!” The words rang clear through the evening air, but he did not care. The servant started digging, using one sword more or less as a shovel to move the dirt and grass out of the way. Before he got far, though, he heard an arrow whistling through the air, which impacted with the back of his knee a split second later. He reflexively turned towards where it had come from, swords raised. Above the entrance to the bunker, he saw a zombie standing, a glistering bow in her hands. One that seemed familiar, but from where? Around the edges, just outside of the wall, he saw the heads of more people pop up as they pillared up, raising a wall of dark obsidian just behind the dirt and cobble. His window for escape was growing smaller with every block they placed, and he quickly went back to digging once more.
“Last chance, stand down!” The servant didn’t even look back, ignoring the words and moving forwards. From the corner of his eye he saw someone approaching, making the obsidian wall higher still. He had to get out right now. She could shoot all she wanted, he knew where he would be waking up. A second arrow came barrelling his way, this time hitting him in the other knee.
It hurt, he felt it, and he knew that running would not be possible before he took the arrows out. He didn’t stop digging though, not this time, and seconds later the dirt popped away entirely. Behind it was a layer of obsidian already, but it only went two blocks high right now. Which meant he could clamber up there if he used the gap he just created, and after that he would be able to simply jump off on the other side and move away .
H e started forwards, hearing the sound of something else shooting through the air. He found out it wasn’t an arrow as the loop of a lasso wrapped around his torso and arms, the rope pulling taut almost immediately. His elbows dug into his sides, and a sudden pull on the rope nearly made him lose his balance. He was better than this, though. He still had his swords, and swords generally cut rope.
The servant turned on his heels, pulling the rope a little bit more towards himself. On the other side of it, he saw someone with a cowboy hat desperately holding on, feet digging into the dirt on top of the wall. With his limited movement, he brought up his swords, then let them come down on the lasso. The rope frayed as he slid the edge of the swords over them, but it held for now.
From behind him sounded footsteps, and the next thing he knew, someone was pulling some kind of cloth over his face, obscuring his vision. He struggled against it, but the combination of being blinded and restrained didn’t help him a whole lot. Still, he had some tricks up his sleeve, and he knew roughly where the person behind him had to be. Should they attack… Send a few little flies into my web...
In one smooth motion, he let the hilts of his swords spin in his hands, such that the points now pointed backwards, and then stabbed. Whoever was behind him yelped as one of them hit a soft spot, while the other skidded over their armour.
“Guys, I could really use some assistance here!” The voice was familiar, one he had most definitely heard before, many times even. Though, before any pesky memories could come up and tell him exactly where he knew it from, he pulled back his sword, then rapidly stabbing once more, a little bit more with an upwards angle this time. The cloth got a little looser as he heard the sound of skin splitting open, and the one behind him whimpered. Very, very briefly he saw bushes in front of his mind’s eye.
“Biffa, Biffa please, calm down. We’re trying to help you.” His voice sounded weak, pleading. Just for good measure, the servant twisted his sword as it was still embedded in the… probably the stomach of the other, making him scream out in pain.
“You don’t… have to do... this.” There was audible strain in the words as the other man kept hanging on to the cloth. The servant scoffed.
“You obviously know nothing.”
He heard multiple sets of footsteps running towards him, and before he knew it, hands were grabbing him from all sides, trying to keep him in place.
“I’m sorry, old friend.” Another voice, one he knew even better. Barely a second later, he felt something hard connect to his temple, and the darkness of being covered with cloth changed into the darkness of unconsciousness.
Notes:
here we go again, sorry for the delay in the chapter, uni was quite busy
come yell at me on tumblr! @fluid-quartz
Chapter 40
Notes:
tw for a slight bit of body horror. stop reading at "ah, ah, ah, i didn't think so" and start again at the beginning of the paragraph after it.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
His knee sunk down further than he thought it would, before encountering resistance. It probably had something to do with the slimy build of the man underneath him, who was squirming to get free. Not with much success, it had to be said, but trying nonetheless. At the same time, Sally was dealing with another nuisance too. There were still small bits of his mind that rebelled against him, trying to tell him that what he was doing was wrong, that he needed to let go of his ‘friends’ and should turn against his master instead.
Small bits that could just go and die for all he was concerned. He didn’t need that sentimentality, it would only distract him from his only true desire: to serve his master to the fullest of his capabilities. Sally blinked once, forcing the thoughts out of his head with a frown on his face. He needed to focus on the here and now, on his current task.
The blue person under him was trying to kick him, which wasn’t that efficient, and it almost distracted Sally from the hand that was reaching between the floor and his hoodie. Almost. He reached out, grabbing the arm and moving his weight forwards a little, to put more pressure between the shoulder blades.
“Ah, ah, ah, I didn’t think so.” Sally yanked at the arm, pulling it out and revealing a communicator, already half stuck inside the slime that made up his hand. The man balled his hand into a fist and winced as he pressed the thing further inside his palm, out of reach.
“Oh, I really wish you hadn’t done that. Think of the mess needed to get that out.” He sighed, badly faked concern laced through his words. That, and something more, hidden just underneath the surface. Something more… evil, sadistic.
“Screw you!” the slime man bit at him, just before he tried rolling over to toss Sally of his back. Something that wasn’t very easy thanks to the knee between his shoulder blades, and the hand that tightly gripped his arm. In response, the little spider took a hold of his hair, pulling his head from the ground at a painful angle.
“This will be a lot easier if you don’t struggle, believe me,” Sally whispered, mouth close to the ear of the other.
“Never! Let. Me. GO!” growled his prey, twisting his arm down and out of his grasp, immediately followed by moving his knees and elbows closer to each other and lifting himself from the ground ever so slightly. If it weren’t for Sally using that moment to just hit him on the back of the head hard, the slime man might have even been able to get up to his hands and knees. Now, though, he went splat against the ground, head wobbling like jelly but not moving much more than that.
“Ugh… Now I have to carry him all the way back,” the little spider sighed, dusting off his hands and standing up. With another sigh and a roll of his eyes, he then went to pick up the slime man bridal style. Sally unfurled his wings, then took off, back towards his master.
Behind the black expanse of their confines, they waited patiently for someone to come. Their friends to get them out, Grian so they could power-of-friendship him back to normal, or that spidery bastard so they could just smack them in the head with one of the plates. It was the closest thing the Endbusters had to a weapon, and none of them was very tempted to try and eat the food. They didn’t care much if it got spilled while decking a horrible spider person thing in the face.
The trio had decided that it would probably be best if they could catch some well-needed shut-eye as well. How long it had been since the last time they had taken a nap they didn’t know, but they did know that the last proper night of sleep had been at the very least three days ago, before they had ventured into the End. Python had argued that he had been out the longest, so he’d stay up, and Ren had volunteered to stay awake as well, so Iskall could catch up on some sleep. After all, it was probably a bad idea if they all slept at the same time, and this way they could ensure at the very least two people were awake at any given moment, so the third could be woken up still even if something happened to one of the other two.
Ren had taken up position on the floor next to his slabs, back leaning against them. The elbow of his healthy arm was resting on a knee he had pulled up close to him, while his other leg was just laying outstretched on the floor. He was vaguely aware of Python moving about a little over at his own slabs, but he paid it not much mind right now. Even though those to were his friends, and he had quite a large social battery, at some point that just ran out.
So right now Ren was recharging a little bit, letting his thoughts stray, within reason of course. He wondered why that spidery bastard was doing this, what kind of ulterior motive they had to kidnap and torture and kill and brainwash. He still knew barely anything at all, just little snippets of information that Arachne and Wels and Not Grian had brought them. Not really enough to piece anything substantial together, sadly. Not enough by far. Ren knew the spider had presented themselves as the ‘ruler’ of this domain, whatever that could have meant. Did they mean this building? This region? The complete End dimension?
Probably not the latter, at the very least. His knowledge of endermen politics wasn’t that extensive, but he doubted they’d listen to a being such as Arachne. If they’d listen to anyone at all. Perhaps they somehow got their orders from the dragon, though that would have left them directionless in the time after the Hermits had come to kill it. Would that mean that they had done something bad by killing it? He had always assumed that the dragon was terrorising the End, not ruling it.
“Huh…” he mumbled, thinking further along the tangent. The endermen sure didn’t seem directionless, so perhaps they had some form of self governing after all. It would make sense at the very least. Tribal endermen. Yep. He was totally not going mad sitting here. Not at all.
Get it together, man, I’m Ren-diggity-done with your shit. Focus on what’s important here. Tribal endermen, pffft…
He shook the thoughts out of his head, and then softly sighed as he refocussed on the wall.
Notes:
chapter forty, guys! we're starting to head towards the end of the first story arc now ^^
Chapter 41
Notes:
TW for a panic attack. It builds up gradually over the second perspective, so you may want to skip it altogether if you feel like you are easily affected by that kind of thing. There'll be a short scene summary in the end notes should you want to use that.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
He had come in maybe a few minutes after the short fight had finished, which made him wonder whether it would not have been better if he had stayed where he was, so he could have tried to extinguish a little bit more. Still, he was here now, and since he couldn’t quite change the past, he would just roll with it. And that’s how Tango got dragged into an emergency meeting. There had been a few in the last few days, mostly to strategise and figure out what to do next.
This one, however, was about how they could help Biffa break the spider’s influence. So far, they had not seen any kind of sign that the original was still in there somewhere, but if there was something the Hermits had a lot of, it was optimism, closely followed by stubbornness to get things working, no matter the amount of time or resources needed.
They were all sitting in the meeting room, except for False, who had volunteered to go guard Biffa. Doc had sent her a weird look, but she had just slightly smiled before she left. One of the things that unnerved Tango most was the amount of empty chairs in the room this time around. Wels and Jevin, Iskall, Ren, and Python. The lack of Grian’s usual cheerful banter only added to that. Six, that’s how many they had lost until now. Seven, if they counted Biffa, but they had gotten him back. Sort of. More or less.
His eyes glid past the others, trying to gauge how they were feeling. X seemed worried, Joe looked determined, Keralis was obviously in pain but managing so far, and the others were trying to maintain a neutral composure with varying degrees of success. The admin then cleared his throat and stood up.
“So. I’d reckon you all know why I called this meeting. We had a significant victory today in getting back one of our own. The battle’s not won just yet, though. We don’t know as of yet what exactly is affecting Biffa, or how we can solve it, but I’m sure we can figure something out if we work together,” Xisuma started. His eyes darted around the rough circle, pausing on each Hermit for a second before moving on.
“I would like to ask all of you to think on it, and share theories if you have any. Right now, I would say that there are no dumb hypotheses. This is a new situation, after all.” A soft murmur started as people here and there were discussing with their direct neighbours. Tango, too, was thinking about the problem in front of him. Something was making Biffa, a partial robot, do things he should not do. Like he was being controlled from a distance. He squinted slightly, looking down at the table, then up to the ceiling, and then directly at Xisuma. The demon raised his hand, politely waiting for his turn. It came quite fast, and he too stood up to attract the attention of his fellow Hermits.
“I think he either was hacked or he somehow got infected with a virus. Something like that, at the very least. It would explain why he acts so differently, because someone else is in control. In this case, I would say it’s that spider doing it.” He looked round the circle, seeing the pensive faces of the others, some nodding slowly in agreement. “In which case I think tech team should like… do a virusscan or something?” Tango’s eyes went over to the tech team guys, for now actually in the same room and away from their devices.
Doc was rubbing his chin, while Cub was frowning. Scar looked more or less impressed but not entirely, as though he was still letting the logical steps process in his head.
“Yeah, we should run some diagnostics anyway, adding a virusscan to that can easily be done. I got experience with debugging robotic parts, thanks to cyborg club,” the cyborg said, gesturing to his own arm and the side of his face.
“Wait, cyborg club…?” Mumbo asked.
“You heard me.”
“Yes, I did, but-”
“Let’s stay on topic here, shall we?” the admin suggested. “Anyone else has a workable angle right now?” Joe almost immediately raised his hand, and Xisuma pointed at him. “Go for it!”
“Well, I was thinking this may be a bit different from what you deem. After all, Biffa was gone for a few months, it might just be an extensive propaganda scheme. How to get around that I don’t know, not yet, but I’ll somehow find a way, on that you can bet.”
The response to this was a little milder than to Tango’s words, but it was still a fairly viable theory. It was out of the box thinking, sure, but that was the Joe Hills Difference they had all come to know and love.
Much in the same manner, the present Hermits kept repeating the cycle of thinking and coming up with a theory, one wackier than the other, and sharing them with the group, until TFC stood up, looking around until he got everyone’s attention.
“How ‘bout we let Doc here run his diagnostics before we try ‘n figure out more? Seems like the logical step right now, instead of theorising like crazy.” Xisuma exchanged a look with Doc, then refocussed on the old man.
“That may well be the best idea, yes. I’d say, meeting dismissed until further notice. Doc, how fast can you get those diagnostics done?”
The cyborg halted in the middle of standing up, looked upwards and counted a few things on his fingers.
“Two hours minimum. I’ll need to pick up some tools, first, though.”
“Go for it. Do take someone with you, just in case. No one goes out alone, especially not at night.”
“Gotcha. You coming, Scar?”
“Sure thing.”
She stood outside, looking into the room through the barred window. The bright, occasionally flickering lights illuminated the motionless form of Biffa, hanging limply in the ropes that tied him to a chair. Someone had removed the green coat that had been wrapped around him, which made him look a lot more like the friendly neighbourhood pvp expert she knew. Still, the sight made False shiver, and it had mostly to do with the green markings that snaked over him like circuitry.
Her hand was tightly wrapped around the pommel of her blade, knuckles white from strain. She was not exactly too happy to stand guard right here and now, what had happened but hours ago still fresh in her mind. Even the slightest bit of movement caused by his breathing had her on edge, almost expecting him to suddenly wake up and attack. False knew it was unlikely to happen, given how hard Xisuma had hit him over the head. And she also knew she could trust in the strength of the rope, the iron bars, the walls and the metal door. Biffa would not be able to get out of there so easily, not without his swords. She was safe standing here. Completely safe.
And yet, the longer she stood there, the more she got the feeling that she shouldn’t have volunteered to do this alone. Yes, it had made sense, back then, because she knew she was one of the best in pvp combat. How bad can it be, she had asked herself. I will just be standing guard, she had told herself
The light flickered and flashed, causing a minor strobe effect for a few seconds. few seconds in which it more than seemed like Biffa stirred. Surely he hadn’t sat in that position just seconds before, right? False tentatively walked a bit closer, one hand already going to her communicator to tell someone he was awake.
Still, as she looked at him, there was once again no sign of movement other than his breathing. False was sure she had seen something though. She blinked, forcing herself to breathe out slowly. Get it together, Falsey, you have this. Nothing to be afraid of.
There was no movement until suddenly there was. A shape crawled over the glass, on the inside of the room. Something with eight legs, something green. It was so unexpected that she physically jumped back with a small yelp, unsheathing her sword as if that was going to solve things.
Just a spider. Just a small, tiny spider. Nothing to be afraid of. Nothing at all. You got this. You got this. It’s just a regular little spider, nothing else.
Once again, she forced herself to breathe out slowly as her heartbeat only rose in frequency. It was difficult, though. For a single moment she looked away from the room, focussing her attention on the ground under her feet briefly to ban the image of the spider out of her head. She was going to need to report that in a bit, couldn’t be too careful about that kind of thing.
As she looked up once more, the spider was no longer in sight. Instead, she could see a pair of venomous green eyes staring back at her from where Biffa was sitting. There was scorn on his face, and perhaps a bit of that same expression as he had had in the cave.
That same expression he had had moments before letting blows rain down on Wels.
That same expression he had had moments before he killed one of her friends.
The light flickered, but his eyes kept being visible, almost glowing in the split seconds of darkness. False swallowed hard. She knew she had to let someone know he was awake. Like, right now. Somehow, though, she could just not look away from those unblinking eyes. Especially not when he started moving, trying to get out of his bonds.
She felt her breathing get shallower, less regular, as her heartbeat ran faster and faster. Yes, she trusted the rope, but… she wasn’t too sure if she trusted it more than she feared Biffa getting out. Her knuckles whitened further as she clasped her sword harder. That gave her at least a small sense of security. Her fresh suit of godarmour helped as well.
Still, while her armour and sword could protect her from physical dangers, her mind formed an issue of its own. Currently it was stuck on a loop of I’m next, and she couldn’t quite stop it. Every time the light flickered, she could just see the area change into a cave. It caused violent shivers to crawl up and down her spine, urging her to do something about the situation. Instead of fight or flight, though, False followed the lesser known third f and froze where she stood, hyperventilating in place.
this was dumb this was stupid why did I come here why why why I’m gonna be next I’m next he’s gonna break out and I’m next please please please don’t break out I don’t want to be next I don’t want to I don’t want to please don’t let me be next I’m gonna be next I’m gonna be next
False was shaking, barely feeling her sword hand because of how hard she was squeezing the hilt. She could feel tears start dripping down her face in slow but constant streams, and some breaths came out joined by high-pitched whimpers.
And still those eyes were staring at her, those cold green eyes so foreign on her friend’s face.
Notes:
for those that skipped the second perspective: False was guarding an unconscious Biffa, and the flickering lights + a spider crawling past over a window + Biffa suddenly slowly starting to stir sent her into a negative spiral of worries and memories of earlier in the day.
for everyone: thanks for reading along so far, and for keeping up with the frankly ridiculous amount of small storylines scattered along the main plot. i truly appreciate it <3
Chapter 42
Notes:
TW for gore, graphic depictions of violence/torture and (temporary) dismemberment. Stop reading at “And so... the choice has been made.”, continue at "Was that so hard?" if you're okay with mentions of things and skip to the next perspective if you're not.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Urgh...”
As his eyes fluttered open, he was met with the sight of eight blood red eyes staring back at him from high above. Behind that was just inky blackness, blacker than the absence of light should be able to cause. And yet… Jevin would not say it was dark where he was. Not at all. He squinted, trying to figure out how this worked, but it mostly hurt his brain. That could also be the remnants of that hit to the head he had taken, though. He wasn’t too sure, though. What he was sure about, was the fact that he would really like to not be wherever he was.
“I... spy… with my little eye… A little fly, that thought I couldn’t catch him. And now, the little fly is in my web once more.” The voice sounded wrong, so wrong in his ears, and that made it perhaps the right voice for this creature. It sure as hell didn’t sound human. It was followed by a sound Jevin could not quite place and an expression on their face that gave him goosebumps.
He glanced around, trying to figure out how to get out of there. Where he had expected walls and a floor, though, he found more of the same inky blackness as that above him. More than a little bit unnerving, that. He focussed his attention back on the spider-like creature. They were standing over him, legs flanking him on both sides. Their arms hung idle next to their torso, at the very least for now, and their head was cocked ever so slightly to the side.
Jevin decided that it would probably be a good idea to move out form under them, pushing himself up to a sitting position and then quickly scrambled backwards, away from them. As he did so, he felt something rhythmically swaying against his back, but the slime man decided that he had different priorities right now. Like getting the hell out of there.
The spider moved forwards ever so slightly before bending in his direction, hand outstretched towards him. As he moved further and further backwards, suddenly there was no more ground under him, and Jevin fell down a little bit. It was not much, but the unexpectedness of it threw him off, which was enough for them to grab him by the neck, lifting him up from the ground. Though… No, that was not his neck. That was something wrapped around it, and it sure as hell was not his sweater.
Not particularly enjoying the situation, Jevin took a hold of their arm, holding himself up with one hand and punching it with the other.
“Let me go, you bastard!” It seemed like the spider didn’t care much for his attempts, though. They simply stared at him, then caught the hand he was punching with by the wrist. It happened to also be the one he had shoved his communicator into, and it seemed that the spider-like creature noticed it too.
“The little fly has a choice. Give me the device in your arm, or I will take it. Decide.” His eyes went from his wrist to their face and back, an angry frown on his face. He was not about to give his communicator up this easily. Not this soon.
“Never.”
“And so... the choice has been made.” They reached out with the third of their arms, pushing the sleeve of his sweater up, the end of their claw dancing over the top layer of slime, before digging in deep without warning.
Jevin screamed out in agony, desperately trying to get his slime to close back down around the claw. The spider, meanwhile, tried their best to rip open his arm far enough to be able to take the communicator out. The slime man was whimpering and cursing very loudly and very creatively, but he had some moderate success with getting his skin to close again. Ah, the wonders of being made out of highly malleable slime. He was determined to make that work to his advantage.
The creature seemed unamused to say the slightest. So they raised up their fourth claw as well, and employed a different strategy. Instead of trying to cleanly make a cut, they now resorted to ripping out chunks of slime that were roughly in the correct spot, given that that was a lot more difficult to close back up than a simple cut. Jevin was shaking, tears of pain dripping down from his eyes while a neverending stream of curses kept coming out of his mouth. The feeling of his arm being slowly ripped to bits set his entire nervous system on fire, and he felt like he might just pass out. Still, he was trying as best as he could to hang on, to continue spiting the bastard as long as he could manage.
The bits of slime rained down on the ground with wet sploshes, and his arm was wearing thin, with him slowly but surely moving his slime around to protect his communicator a little while longer. Was the pain worth the sight of unamusedness and frustration on the spider’s face? No, no, definitely not. It helped make it at least the tiniest bit better, though. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Despite it all, he did not want to give up and surrender his communicator. Besides, he wondered if they would stop simply because he surrendered. Somehow, they didn’t seem like the type for that. And that’s how in the end, as they ripped the device out of the thin remains of his slime, his hand broke off as well, his wrist no longer able to support its weight. The spider looked at it for a moment, then simply tossed it aside while stashing his communicator away where he couldn’t reach it.
Jevin was panting, his breathing ragged and uneven. His arm fell back to his side, tiny bits of slime still breaking off every now and then, dripping down on the ground. He still stared them straight in the eyes, still defiant despite what had happened. Truth was, he was tired, so goddamn tired. Being hurt took a lot of energy, so much energy, and he desperately wanted a nap but Jevin also knew that was probably not the best idea right now.
“Was that so hard?” The expression on the spider’s face seemed to be some kind of sadistic glee, with undertones of something else he couldn’t place. Annoyance, perhaps? He wasn’t too sure. Without a warning, they let go of him, and the slime man dropped unceremoniously to the floor.
“Screw you, you eight-legged excuse for a rake!” He then proceeded to spit in their general direction. They looked at him, eight eyes staring daggers.
“The little fly will come to regret that.” Then they turned away from him, and walked away, towards the blackness, through which they disappeared.
Jevin let go of a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, posture going limp as he finally allowed himself to relax a little bit. He slowly looked around at the absolute mess the spider had created. Bits of blue slime where everywhere, as was his severed hand. He was lucky it was still there, with a bit more luck he’d be able to put the bits back where they belonged. He’d just need to be more or less quick about it, before the pieces dried out too much.
Once again, the joys of being essentially a vaguely person-shaped heap of sentient slime.
His eyes scanned over the bits tiredly, realising his nap would have to wait a little bit longer if he wanted to reattach everything. Jevin sighed.
“Urgh… okay then….”
The mood in the bunker was tense and gloomy and Stress wasn’t having any of it. Sure, there was a good reason for it, but only being stressed and having no chance at all to unwind would break someone down as easily as a lack of sleep or a good flu. And they couldn’t be having that, now could they?
That’s why she had dragged Cleo along to the kitchen of the bunker. The zombie had only complained for about two minutes, and had then given in, realising Stress was right. She had indeed needed a break, and given how late it was… Well. Seemed like as good a moment as any.
The duo started searching around the cupboards for some ingredients and baking utensils. There had to be some, and if there weren’t, they would simply improvise.
“Oh! Look, here! Mixing bowls!” Stress practically squealed, taking about four of them out of their hiding place behind a jar of… something. Cleo meanwhile was raiding the fridge of milk and eggs and some bits of fruit that were in there as well. Stacking as much as she could into her hands, she turned to the ice queen, kicking the fridge shut.
“Do you think this’ll be enough?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes, that’s perfect! That should about be enough!” Stress was smiling widely at the ingredients while balancing on a chair to get to the highest shelves.
“Actually, you never said how much cake you plan on making?” Her voice went up and slowed down towards the end of her sentence, making clear it was a question. As she spoke she moved the ingredients over to the table in the middle of the room, then started looking for more things that would fit the cakes. A bit of salt, perhaps. Cocoa powder, if she could find it. Whipped cream? Flour! Definitely flour.
Stress looked over at the zombie, grinning ear to ear.
“The answer would be enough.” She chuckled, grabbing a whisk from a shelf, adding it to her non-matching set of utensils.
“You know? That’s valid.” Cleo too was smiling lightly, slowly relaxing.
The ice queen opened up one of the cupboards, and her eyes immediately widened.
“Cleo! Cleo, Cleo, Cleo, look at this! It’s SPRINKLES!!!!” She sounded excited, so very excited.
Neither of them noticed TFC walking in, looking around for a moment before shaking his head with a smile and turning around again, muttering something about ‘kids these days’ and ‘they better clean up afterwards’.
Notes:
I really, really try to not be mean to my characters. I generally fail at that, so have "Kitchen Raid 2: The Cakening" as a peace gift.
Also, sorry Jevin. Y'all are more than welcome to yell at me.
Chapter 43
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When people scattered to the different sides of the bunker to do a variety of things, Mumbo lingered in the meeting room, to look at the evidence they had gathered so far. He just had to see for his own eyes what Biffa had brought. Yes, he knew that he had let something drift to the ground just before the Hermits had teamed up and taken him down, but no one had told him what it was. Almost as though they had agreed to not tell him, even, although it might just have been coincidence that no one told him. To be fair, he also didn’t really ask for it either.
His fingers rapped on the backrest of the chairs he passed while walking towards the wall of evidence. Most of it he recognised, because it had been there for a few days already. The only new things here was roughly a handful of purple feathers. Mumbo swallowed, his breath catching in his throat as he realised he recognised those as well.
Those are Grian’s… But… They said they wouldn’t hurt him! Unless… Did I mess up one of their requests? Is this the punishment they spoke of, or…?
He shook his head, really not wanting to go further down that avenue of thought. He had to hope that this was a punishment and not a sign that they wouldn’t see Grian again. He simply had to. Unconsciously, he was fiddling with his buttons again. It kept him at the very least some kind of calm as he took in the state of the feathers. They were ruffled, bent into some nasty angles at places. Something that was a rusty brown of colour stained the ends of the pens, and it wasn’t hard to deduce that that had to be blood of some sort. Old blood, dried blood. How old, though, that was not something he could figure out from this alone.
A sigh rolled over his lips, but it wasn’t a release of tension in any way. He rubbed over his shoulders and neck, just feeling how knotted up his muscles were. When all of this was over, he was going to go and run himself a nice and hot bath to relax in for a while. The question was when that would be. As far as he knew, they still didn’t know where the bastard was hiding out, and while there was no doubt that Biffa would know, it wasn’t likely that he was just going to tell them. Not in his current state, at the very least.
His eyes slowly made their way over the collection of evidence they had. There were more notes this time, more hypotheses that they could run on. Bits and pieces, ready to be put together. It was a note with Xisuma’s neat writing on it that caught his attention, though. It simply had two numbers on it, joined by a comma and the letters x and z.
Coordinates? Oh my word. Where do those lead to?
Mumbo knew that while they had gone quite far, they hadn’t yet gone all the way to those coordinates, he was sure of that. It could very well be worth checking it out when day came again. Going out at night was probably one of the worst ideas right now. That was, besides setting an entire biome on fire. He could not right there and then think of an idea more stupid than that had been, and that was saying something for a spoon like him. Okay, the event all of them had started calling “round pumpkin” was quite bad too, having cost Xisuma quite some time to solve, and that was with the help of a small taskforce.
N evertheless, he knew that if they had an idea on the location, there’d be a team going there as soon as they could manage. And before then, he’d hope to get some kind of information on what happened in the time he had been gone. That would be nice. Very nice indeed.
He had heard the scream, how could he not have? It had been loud, and so outstretched. And he heard the cursing, loud at first, but slowly losing volume and power. Wels knew who that voice belonged to, and it saddened him. It meant another person had died. Another Hermit, fallen into this deathtrap. He vaguely wondered what had caused it, why Jevin was there, but most of him was feeling horrible. Horrible because he could not stand by his friend when he needed it. Horrible because he couldn’t protect a fellow Hermit. Horrible because he could only pace and listen as the other was hurt.
It went against all he stood for, to not immediately come to aid one that so clearly called out for it. And yet, here he was. Listening, hoping for it to be over soon. He was staring daggers at the wall, his knuckles white as he balled his hands to fists. That spidery bastard should try coming close right now. Really, they would regret it, Wels would make sure of that. He was not one to anger quickly, but right now, all his criteria for doing so had been met.
Time passed slowly. Minutes, maybe more ticked by as the sounds slowly faded away, and Wels was glad it was basically over. It also meant that Arachne would possibly go to where he was. Which meant he could possibly get his chance to smack them in the face with a good fist, if he could get up that high.
He was almost sad that nobody entered his cell, not even after at the very least fifteen minutes had passed. Then again, he also had had some time to think about that spur of the moment plan a little bit more, and had come to the conclusion that it wouldn’t really help anyone further, unless he’d be able to somehow knock the spider out in one hit. And even then, what would he do next? Sit and wait until they woke up again? He couldn’t exactly run away, not while he still had that collar and chain.
Wels went to sit down again, rubbing his forehead before moving some stray locks of hair out of his face. He was starting to feel slightly peckish, not having eaten anything since the morning before he was taken, but a quick glance at the ‘food’ quelled any thought he had about eating it. He could wait. The Hermits would come bust him out any moment now. However long had passed since he had sent Xisuma the coordinates, it had to be long enough to prepare a rescue mission, right?
The knight sat on the edge for a little bit longer, and then moved more to the centre of the slabs. He crossed his legs, tail laying on the ground in a semicircle around him. He put his hands on his knees, palms open and up to the skies, and Wels closed his eyes. Getting a little bit more calm in his head with everything that was happening seemed like a good thing. His breathing slowed down and evened out, gently rolling in and out like waves on a seashore. The knight focussed solely on the rhythm, trying to ban out any and all thoughts popping up.
In... hold... and out... in... hold... and out… in… hold… they’ll come… and out… in… just a little bit longer… hold… and out… X got my message… in… hold… surely he’s sending people… and out… right…?
It had taken a little bit of time to put on a set of godarmour, but that was a sacrifice Zed was willing to make if it meant raising his odds of staying alive by a whole lot. And now his feet were taking him through the bunker, fingers following the dips and cracks in the walls he passed. He had a vague idea where he was going but no real plan once he got there, and that was okay.
As he rounded a corner near the stairs, he started noticing a sound coming from downstairs that shouldn’t be there. Soft, whimpering sobs, almost choked off at points. Someone… crying? Zedaph frowned and sped up his pace. He was worried, quite so, and wanted nothing more than to help whomever it was feel a little bit better, be it by cheering them up or by letting them cry out on his shoulder. Or by just leaving them alone to do their thing, if they rather wanted that, that was more than fine too. He went down the stairs, to the residential layer they weren’t using, then realised where he was and who would be here.
“Oh worm.”
His fast walk changed into a jog as he quickly made his way through the hallways. There, in front of one of the iron doors in the wall, he could see a trembling bunch of shimmering blue armour, a wad of blonde hair poking out from under the helmet. The shoulderplates moved in time with the sobs, and Zed sped down to a normal walk. Didn’t want to scare False on top of everything, that seemed like a bad idea.
“False? You okay over there?” Worry was interwoven in every word he said as he slowly approached. She started nodding, then seemingly rethought that and shook her head instead, not turning to face him. Zed saw that as his sign to come closer, kneeling next to her without a second thought. Yes, he briefly checked whether Biffa was still tied up – he was – but that was about everything that distracted him at that very moment. He had a troubled friend that needed his attention.
Unsure of whether she’d appreciate a hug right now, he held out his arms, inviting False to either hug, hold a hand, or stay at a distance at her own discretion. She picked holding hands for now, squeezing hard as if to make sure it was real.
“Hey, what happened? Only if you want to talk about it, that is,” he said softly, eyes aimed at her face so he could see her reaction. It consisted mostly of shuddering and vigorously shaking her head, eyes aimed at the ground.
“That’s okay, can I do anything for you right now?” His thumb softly rubbed over the back of her hand, ensuring that he was there for her. She nodded to this, small movements that made her hair shift around a little.
“S-stay? Please?” she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Her sobs had mostly become silent, though her shoulders were still shocking every now and then.
“Of course! I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to.” He very gently squeezed her hand, then switched to a more comfortable sitting position.
“Thanks...”
“No problem at all, False. None at all.”
Notes:
I feel like I'm saying this very often, but thank you all so much for reading! ~5k hits, that's like... ~5k more than I ever expected. So yeah. Thanks y'all <3
Chapter 44
Notes:
TW for blood, violence and death. Stop reading at "The gentle breeze did not make the spider jockey descend [...]" and skip to the next perspective.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The route through the Nether may have been a long one, but it was still about eight times faster than if they had gone through the Overworld. Doc was taking the lead, flying through the long corridors to Hermitville at top speed, his tattered lab coat fluttering behind him. Scar followed on his heels, rounding corners and evading the ice path going through the centre of the tunnel. Bumping into things at this speed was… Well. Rather deadly. Not something desirable in the slightest.
While both of them had experienced the hot, thick air of the Nether many times before, it was still not pleasant to breathe, and even less pleasant to speak in while exerting oneself. It made the flight a quiet one, the relative silence in the corridors only broken by the occasional sound of rockets and the soft vwooping of the portals alongside it.
As they neared the end of the corridor, the duo opted for heading through the Hermitville portal instead of the Area 77 one. It had mostly to do with the fact that the tunnel leading to it had not really been anything-proofed yet, and with part of the way over there being a one block wide bridge over a lava lake… They weren’t risking it to save a minute of travel time.
The air of the Overworld was almost soft in comparison to that of the Nether. A cool breeze swept past them as they stepped through the portal, the rustic vibes of the village creating a sense of calm in them. It was quite idyllic here, despite what was going on in different places of the world, almost as though fate dare not touch that place. Everything here was just as they had left it days ago, when the Hermits had all more or less moved into TFC’s bunker. The ever burning torches and lanterns were still lighting up their surroundings with a soft orange glow, animals were occasionally letting out a mooh or a baaaaah or whichever sound they made, and the wind was making the flowers wave on their stems.
Out here, it was almost possible to forget what they were there for. A small cobweb in the upper corner of the portal room was the only external reminder of what was going on.
“Good, this place still seems safe. Let’s get to Area 77. Scar, you added in the lightening, right?” Doc asked as he walked to the edge of the little balcony. Behind him, Scar nervously scratched his neck.
“Uh, yeah, about that...” The landscaper looked a bit startled, as he only now remembered that he was supposed to have done that. Then the entire kidnapping had happened, though, and he didn’t have the time for it anymore. Doc simply sent him a look before taking out his trident. Scar sighed, grabbing his sword from his inventory and hanging it from his hip. No doubt their secure compound had turned into an accidental mob farm by now. His buildings and projects tended to do that.
Once more, they took flight, manoeuvring around the high buildings of Hermitville, over bits of forest and then over Falsewell. Under them, in the unlit areas, there was movement, little at first but growing in frequency by the second. Zombies shambled around, creepers were stalking through the brush, and the occasional skeleton tried taking aim at them, but their numbers were far smaller than they usually were. Instead, the relative amount of spiders that were skittering around seemed to have skyrocketed. They were absolutely everywhere, both on the ground and in trees and on buildings they came across.
This seems wrong… Were there always this many spiders at night?
Scar looked around, seeing the cobwebs in the trees, and a shiver went through him. The night air wasn’t cold per say, it was just something about the sight that made his stomach drop a little. Spiders were leaving their mark upon their world, and while right now it still seemed manageable, the question was how much longer this could go on for before it was irreversible.
The Area 77 grounds weren’t much different. While there was lightening installed in and around the bigger buildings, the grassy and foresty areas between them had to make do with the light of the Moon and stars. It wasn’t nearly enough to prevent monsters from materialising, and Scar made a mental note to really go and fix that somewhere soon, after their current problems were resolved or at the very least resolved enough to be able to take a break.
Doc touched down in front of one of the hang a rs, and seconds later Scar followed too. It seemed safe for now, at the very least.
“Can you watch my back while I grab the tools? We can’t have a zombie wandering in here, and these doors don’t exactly close.” The cyborg nodded towards the large hangar doors, stuck in their perpetual half-open state.
“You know I’m bad at combat, right?” Despite it, he still pulled out his sword, ready for… something. Hopefully nothing.
“Yeah, but you also don’t know where and what the specific tools I need are.”
“That’s a very good point,” he sighed, “just… make it quick, will you?”
“I’ll need a minute or two, that’s all. You got this, I believe in you.” Doc patted him on the shoulder a few times, and then he jogged inside. Scar remained in the entrance to the hangar, where he could probably use the doors as cover should it be necessary. Hopefully it wouldn’t be, because the general area here was lit up quite well, but still. It was a good thing.
You got this, Scar. No worries. It’s just a minute or two, that’s all. Even you are able to stand your ground that long.
His eyes slowly scanned over the surroundings as he heard Doc rummaging through chests and shulker boxes and tool racks behind him. So far, so good, with torches and sea lanterns keeping the runways neat and clear of mobs. The patches of grass between them were a little more shady, but still safe as well, so he had nothing to fear, not really. It would all be fine, really.
A gentle breeze made the long grass dance in the corner of his eyes, and Scar felt his heart throb in his throat. He swallowed it down, breathing out in relief as he realised it wasn’t in fact a creeper planning to blow him up. Still, the grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles turning white as he did so.
The gentle breeze did not make the spider jockey descend on the cliffside beside him, but the green-eyed monsters did not need such incentive. Instead, the skeleton just took aim with its shimmering bow and let go.
Scar only heard the sound of something whistling through the air before an arrow forced its way into his stomach. The force behind the hit actually made him stumble backwards a few steps, and the landscaper looked down in confusion.
“Auch...” he muttered, gently touching the skin around the wound. A bloodstain was already spreading through his shirt, and for a split second he was enthralled by the sight. And then he realised that whatever shot that arrow was still out there, and he most definitely didn’t have the time to look at his wounds. Scar stepped backwards even further, into the relative safety of the hangar, feverishly looking around to spot where the arrow had come from.
The flat area in front of him was still empty, but as he looked around, he could see the cliffs were teeming with green eyes reflecting the light.
“Doc, please hurry!” he called over his shoulder, not at all comfortable with the situation.
“I’m trying to!” came the relatively quick answer, and Scar tried to relax a little bit. He just had to hold this position a little bit longer. Just a little bit. It would be fine.
Another arrow shot towards him, but bumped off from his leg armour.
So far for relaxing even the slightest bit. With a low growl he took on a stance he had seen others use, and he stepped slightly forwards again. His bow, where was his bow? Scar quickly looked through his inventory, and while he did see arrows, his bow was nowhere in sight. No ranged weaponry then. Yep. Amayzin, exactly what I need right now. His eye fell on the doors, and Scar in a moment of clarity decided to step behind one of them instead of being a sitting duck right between them. Only his sword and occasionally his head poked out from behind it, ready to attack where necessary, and he could keep eyes on one of the cliffsides this way.
The thing was, if he could see the monsters, the monsters could see him. Especially the spider jockey seemed fond of that concept, which it showed by letting go of another arrow that effortlessly found Scars unprotected flank.
He yelped in pain, knowing that he probably wouldn’t be able to take another one of those. Okay, screw this position. I’m heading further inside. Without thinking more about it, he pushed himself away from the door, moving away from the opening as quickly as he could manage without hurting too much. Admittedly, that was not very fast, but a bit quicker than just walking at the very least.
“We need to get outta here,” he called out as he moved towards Doc, trying to stop the bleeding from the arrow in his abdomen. “There’s skeletons on spiders with enchanted-”
A blinding pain flared out from his spine, and Scar suddenly couldn’t feel his legs any more. He fell to his knees, looking up pleadingly at Doc, who had dropped the tools in favour of his trident.
“NO! DON’T YOU DARE DIE SCAR, DON’T YOU DARE!” The cyborg tossed the trident past him with all his might, and judging from the rattling of bones and hissing behind him, it had been straight on target.
“I… I told you…. I suck at… combat…”
The last thing he saw was Doc rushing forwards to catch his dematerialising body.
To say the situation in the room was tense was perhaps an understatement. He was barely aware of the others in the little office he had claimed, and he had actually switched out his helmet for his mask so he could dab away the beads of sweat that seemed to be inhabiting his hairline and forehead. After the discoveries of earlier in the evening, he had managed to pinpoint the exact place where Arachne had changed the way respawning worked, hidden deeply underneath layers and layers of code and admin privileges. And now Xisuma was trying to revert it, to make it right again.
This HAS to work. I have to fix this, the sooner the better. I’m not losing anyone else.
Xisuma was typing away, the various screens around him glowing with green code. Dialogue boxes popped up and were swiftly dismissed, and m ore often than not he had to confirm his actions with the root password. Deeper and deeper into the code he delved, getting closer and closer to that border between simple code and admin magic. How exactly that worked, he was not sure about, the admin just knew it did, as well as some ground rules to work with it.
It just had to be enough for his current goals, which laid beyond anything he had ever had to do, and that was saying something. This no longer was making something materialise, or changing the weather, or fixing a glitch here or there. This was significantly altering the laws of the world they lived in on a metaphysical level. If this went wrong… Well. That was something he would rather not think about. The consequences of that would be large, without question.
That was why he was rereading his code again and again before even considering saving and applying it. There would simply not be a way of bugfixing this, it had to work perfectly first time.
Eventually, though, he sat back, looking around to meet Tango’s and Impulse’s eyes.
“I think I’m done here. I just need to hit enter and hope everything works as I intend it to work.” He was mostly looking at the other two to get the little bit of courage he needed to actually push through with this, knowing they probably couldn’t help him check the code.
“Well, what are you waiting for then?” Tango answered almost immediately, while Impulse just nodded.
“Yeah, X, we trust your judgement. If you think you’re done, then you’re done.”
His eyes went from one to the other once more, then he breathed out, his finger hovering over the final button.
“Alright then, here goes nothing.”
His finger came down.
[ADMIN] Saving . . .
[ADMIN] Applying changes . . . 6%
[ADMIN] Applying changes . . . 23%
[ADMIN] Applying changes . . . 37%
[ADMIN] Applying changes . . . 49%
[ADMIN] Applying changes . . . 62%
[ADMIN] Applying changes . . . 71%
[ADMIN] Applying changes . . . 84%
[ADMIN] Applying changes . . . 95%
>> GoodTimesWithScar was shot by Skeleton
[ADMIN] Applying changes . . . 100%
[ADMIN] Process complete
Notes:
First of all: Sorry Scar.
Second of all: This chapter actually hurt to write.
Third: I'm back from being gone! Expect more regular updates as we head towards the end of the first arc!
Fourth: Did you know there's a Discord server for citsw now? The link can be found on my Tumblr: @fluid-quartz
Chapter 45
Notes:
TW for choking/strangling. Stop reading at "Tssk… The little fly shouldn’t struggle", start again at "The struggle in his eyes stopped"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
A gentle buzz of good news had brought them back to the altar room, just in time to see a new little fly appear as though from thin air. Brown hair, brown and beige clothing, and a brown hat to top it all off. The skin on the face was broken up by long, wide scars, suggesting something bad had happened to the man, something he survived. It could either work to their advantage or to their disadvantage, but which of the two remained to be seen.
Regardless, they took off his hat, to add to their collection. Next, they moved over to the pile of metal bands, picking one up that seemed like it would fit. Not that they cared much about whether it was comfortable in any way, as long as it was tight enough that the scarred man couldn’t escape. And if that meant making breathing a little more difficult… Well then. It would only help make him accept their mark faster.
The man on the altar started stirring slightly, a groan passing over his lips as his hands moved to a place on his stomach. They knew they had to act at least a little bit on the quick side, before he recovered from respawning enough to become a nuisance, like some of the others had. And thus, Arachne moved towards the altar, pressing down the upper arms of their newest toy with two hands so he couldn’t get up. Then, while letting out a specific series of clicks and hisses, they started bending the metal band around his neck, ignoring the surprise and the pointless attempt at struggling from his side.
“Stay off a’ me!”
When he grabbed their wrists, and tried to bend his body in such a way that he could kick in their general direction, Arachne could not help but chuckle, amused by the foolish bravery these… Hermits… seemed to have. He didn’t even get anywhere that could loosely be described as ‘close’ anyway.
“Tssk… The little fly shouldn’t struggle… It will only make matters worse,” they mused out loud, before applying ever so slightly more pressure to the metal band to get the ends to meet. Perhaps it indeed was a little bit too short, but Arachne would make it fit.
The man let go of their wrists, instead desperately trying to grasp at the band but coming up short, the very tips of his fingers only gently brushing over the edge. His face started to become a bit paler and a bit blueish as he was visibly struggling for air. He seemed scared as he wheezed, his breaths short, shallow, and unsteady.
In the meanwhile, Arachne’s thoughts were analysing the situation, ever trying to turn it even more to their advantage. Their claws danced over the metal as another series of clicks and hisses originated from their mouth, fixating the collar in place first and foremost. Then they bent forwards a little bit, looking him straight in the eyes.
“If the little fly wants to breathe, he only has to accept my marking.” Their mandibles curled into a grin as the man on their altar shook his head vigorously.
“’m not… fly…” he managed to bring out, followed by some weak coughs. In response, Arachne simply put a little bit more pressure on the metal, closing off his windpipe ever so slightly further. Almost immediately, they could see his eyes start focussing and unfocussing in rapid succession, and his grasping for his throat grew more desperate.
They tried judging how far they could push this before he met his limit. Ideally, they would bring him as close to that limit as they could, but not over it, and then keep him there until he accepted. For now, though, it seemed as though he was still able to get at least some air, but by no means enough.
“Decide, little fly. Don’t you want to breathe?”
The man very weakly shook his head, and Arachne could see the struggle in his eyes. They knew he was thinking about it, as their other two servants had as well. They simply needed to add in a little extra kick to his pride, a little more helplessness, and it would be done. Once more, they grinned, calmly raising the pressure a bit more as they kept looking the man straight in the eyes.
The struggle in his eyes stopped, one hand moving away from his throat to tap them on the arm.
“Please… air… I‘ccept...” A wicked grin appeared on their face as they let go of the collar.
“See? Was that so hard?” With one claw, they traced over his chest, stopping right over his heart. A few clicks and hisses rolled past their mandibles as the man thankfully took in large gulps of air. Then the claw elongated slightly, and Arachne felt it pierce skin, a bit of muscle and then something more.
The man’s eyes widened as he felt it, a whimper escaping his mouth, quickly followed by a cough and then a sigh as his eyes slowly fell closed. From under the edges of his collar and sleeves, they could see faint green lines start to spread, moving up in time with the beating of his heart. His body went limp, his hands falling to his sides, and Arachne went through the motions of removing the metal band, replacing it with one that was ever so slightly longer.
They’d have to let new garments be brought here, but that was not an issue in the slightest. That’s what they had servants for.
Time was hard to keep track of, especially with no sun or moon to base it on. The duo only had their internal clock as a reference, and even that had been thoroughly screwed with due to their time in the End. Had hours passed? Minutes? Days? Well, okay, probably not days, given that Iskall had not yet woken up, but still. Since Jevin had stopped screaming it had been silent outside of their cell, and neither Grian nor the spider had come back to visit.
Ren was remarkably okay with that. He still remembered that bastard trying to eat him, and it was really fine if there wasn’t a reprise of that. Speaking of eating… His stomach gurgled, complaining about not having had anything since the morning, however long ago that had been. He glanced over at the plates, almost forgotten where they stood to the side of the room. One look at the ‘food’ was enough to make his brain win from his stomach.
Nope. Not gonna happen. Not if the others are gonna be here soon.
A sigh rolled over his lips, as he looked over at Python, who was fidgeting with his chain a little. He seemed a little bit out of i t, staring at a non-distinct piece of wall in the distance. Ren scooted over a bit, as far as his own chain allowed.
“You okay there, Python?” He tilted his head slightly, looking at the snake man with a hint of concern in his eyes and voice. Giving up hope was quite literally the last thing any of them should be doing right now, and Python… Well. Wasn’t looking good right now.
“I… want to shay yesh, I really do.” His words fell flat, and yet, that flat surface did the same as the walls here: they showed a depth and darkness that they really shouldn’t be able to. His eyes never wavered from their spot on the wall as links of chain clanked together, gliding through his fingers one by one, almost like prayer beads or a rosary.
“That’s a no, then.” Ren reached out, coming just short of being able to touch Python or pat his shoulder or grab his hand or pull him in for a hug. It was almost as though the snake man didn’t notice, though. At the very least he didn’t react to it in any visible way.
“It’sh jusht… I fought fey would’ve been here by now.” He blinked slowly. “Inshtead, we jusht get to hear more and more of our friendsh shcream and beg in pain. Firsht Welsh, then Jevin… And whatever ish going on with Grian… I-” He let out a shuddering breath, his eyes dropping to the floor. His words were softer when he next spoke.
“If I’m honesht, I’m not sho shure we’re on the winning shide of fingsh anymore.”
“Python, don’t you dare lose hope. It’s the friggin’ Hermits we’re talking about here. The kind of people that regularly spend days if not weeks or months doing ridiculous projects because it would make their lives marginally better. The kind of people that literally chase the very limits of the rules of this world to find loopholes and do things that should not by any kind of reason be possible. The kind of people that team up for the tiniest possible reasons, to bundle their powers and ideas and strengths. And you believe these people would sit by idly if someone went after their friends, after us and Wels and Jevin and Grian? If anything, they’re currently figuring out some over-the-top plan to get us outta here. So please, please have a little faith in them, my dude. They’ll get here, just you wait.”
W ithout lifting his eyes from the ground, Python sighed, then slowly nodded.
“I guesh you’ve got a point fere…” The chain links were still periodically clanking. “I’ll try, but we’ve been waiting sho damn long already. And ash much ash I don’t want to, I can’t help but fink fe worsht.”
“Then don’t think. We’ll wake up Iskall, and you can try to sleep. I’ll be fine holding out a little bit longer my dude.” His tone was gentle, worry and concern and care still clearly woven through it. The snake man finally looked to the side, and Ren smiled an encouraging smile at him.
“Are you shure?”
“Positive.”
“Fen let’sh do fat.”
Notes:
*whoops*
im blaming this chapter on public transport.
Chapter 46
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
After the meeting had ended, Joe had helped him limp back to his bed. While his wounds had mostly closed, mostly wasn’t completely, and one could only drink so many health potions before suffering from side effects. As for golden apples… He was already under the effect of the bunker’s regeneration beacon, adding a golden apple to the mix wasn’t gonna help much more. The question was now which would happen sooner: The regen effect having healed him completely, or the timer that dictated when he could have another health potion running out. Somehow, Keralis doubted he’d fall asleep before that point.
That had in no part to do with the fact that Joe had just returned with a mug full of coffee and two slices of cake covered in so many sprinkles that the whipped cream used to stick them to the cake was barely visible at all. A certain twinkle appeared in his eyes, and his lips curled into a wide smile.
“Is that… cake?” He unconsciously licked his lips already. The poet chuckled and walked closer, setting the mug and the plates down on the little table next to the bed.
“It would certainly seem that way on first sight, and the smell does indeed raise an appetite. But can we ever truly trust what we see or smell or feel? How can we know for sure if something is real? This could indeed be cake, or it might just be a lie. But if Stress and Cleo are truly dastardly…. It may secretly be a pie.” He kept completely serious as he spoke, in that intense tone he always had when he discussed things. Still, his facial expression told a different story, with a lazy grin and laughing wrinkles around his eyes.
“A pie?! No way!” Keralis feigned shock, which wasn’t really hard for him at all. “Joe, look into my eyes, and nothing but my eyes. We need to get to the bottom of this! If this isn’t cake, these cake crimes can’t go unpunished, what do you say?”
“Justice… Will be served.” With a grin he adjusted his glasses and pulled two forks out of his inventory, handing one over to the other man. Both of them took a slice of the cake – or pie, perhaps – and they happily started eating.
He had felt the call before he heard it. It resonated through his head, suggesting for him to move, to retrieve things, to go to his master. All tasks he could do without issue. Seconds later, he saw and heard spiders enter, clicking and hissing the same message. How he understood, he wasn’t sure of, he just knew that he did.
And so, without thinking more of it, Sally moved away from the spot he had been standing in for quite some time now, his mind idle as he had managed to silence that other voice in him more and more and more. Hopefully it was finally realising there was no point to his struggle, finally giving in to the master, finally shutting up for good. Whatever it was, Sally didn’t really care as he walked to one of the storage rooms. Unlike most of the others, this one wasn’t meant for food storage, instead having various items made of cloth or stone or metal neatly tucked into chests or hanging from hooks in the walls.
Let’s see… Deepstone slabs, four of them. A length of chain. A servant’s coat.
The combination brought him joy, for the simple reason that it meant another little fly had fallen into the web, another one had started the path of serving the one true master. Without much issue, Sally retrieved the requested items, putting the slabs and chain in his inventory while he kept the coat hanging over his arm. Such an item simply didn’t deserve to be put in an inventory, where none could see it. It had to be carried out in the open, where the deep green webbing of the fabric could display its marvellous pattern of light and shadow.
T hen, after gently closing the chests once more, he made his way downstairs, to the altar room. There he found his master, closing the collar around a figure in brown and beige. The face was obscured behind the arms and legs of his master, and yet… The figure had a certain familiarity to it, Sally just couldn’t point out where it came from. Not that it mattered, in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps he had known this person once, perhaps he had not, the only thing that mattered was the fact that he would know the person they would become.
“I brought what you requested, master.” He bowed shortly as he spoke and made his presence known.
“Excellent, my little spider. Now… replace the little fly’s… garments with the ones I asked you to bring.” Sally nodded.
“Of course.” Then he went to work, first propping up the unconscious form and then taking off the jacket. Only now could he see the face of the man, and the lighter lines all over his skin triggered something within Sally. Or rather… within Grian.
Scar! No, no, not Scar too! Let him go! Let him GO!
Sally’s hands wavered for a second from the shirt buttons he was undoing as the builder was giving everything he had to try and take control again. He was not doing this. Not with the green that seemed to slowly be spreading through Scar’s veins. Not if it meant the landscaper would suffer the same fate as he had.
Grian’s control ceded the moment he realised he was still standing practically next to Arachne. It gave caused a small pause in his concentration, and that was all Sally needed to get back on top, to kick Grian to the backseat where he belonged. The unbuttoning continued, and slowly but surely Scar’s surprisingly toned chest and abdomen came into view, the pale skin riddled with both deep scars and more of the meandering green veins. Not that Sally cared much for any of that. Instead, he just diligently removed the shirt, neatly folding it up and putting it on the altar. Then he took the coat and carefully slipped the arms of the unconscious man through the designated holes before closing the clasps on the front.
Stepping backwards, he turned towards his master, ready for another task. Instead of words, however, they simply picked up Scar as though he weighed nothing, basically princess style with more arms involved, gestured for him to follow and then moved out of the room. That was acceptable too. It was clear what was expected of him.
And so, as expected, he followed.
Shards of glass rained to the floor as he retracted his fist. He knew the screen hadn’t deserved it, he really did, but Cub didn’t know what else to do. He had shouted, angry, so angry with fate. It had not been enough to give him the emotional release he so desperately needed, hough, and he had searched for something else, some other way to decharge. The capitalist didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t cry , even if he wanted to. He had never been one to cry, he had always picked himself back up, looked at the situation and kept going, ever practical in his approach to problems.
His best friend dying, slipping away into the claws of their enemy, was not a problem he could easily get a grip on. He was close, so close to just strapping on his elytra and a suit of armour, to fly out towards the coordinates that Wels had sent, to take matters into his on hands. And yet, he knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t justify it. The risk was too high, they couldn't afford losing someone more, especially not in exchange for the slim chance of emotional, impulsive revenge.
Cub stood up, pacing through the room and kicking shards out of his way. How hard he was grabbing his own hands behind his back was the only thing to keep them from shaking, and the sharp stinging sensation where the glass had grazed the skin of his knuckles didn’t allow for his thoughts to wander too far. Where his mind stayed on track, though, his eyes certainly didn’t. They shot around, going from the floor to the ceiling to the screens to the walls, restlessly searching for something.
If it hadn’t been for that restlessness, the capitalist might have never noticed the spider with glowing green eyes, sitting high up in the corner of the room. Perhaps it was a gut feeling, perhaps it was simply a response to the fact that spiders had been proven to be untrustworthy over the past couple of days, but Cub just knew something was up. He immediately stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows knitting together as a frown appeared on his face.
Green eyes… Hmmm… Don’t they normally have… red eyes? And yet… This is strange, Biffa also had- Oh damn. Biffa. Biffa also had green eyes, and green lines. Green. Green, green, green, are they linked? They have to be, right? That bastard was green too. Shit.
“I gotta show this to X...” he muttered to himself, very briefly looking through his inventory for something to contain the spider with. Preferably something opaque, just in case. He came up empty, though, until his eyes found their way back to the desk, where various mugs and sheets of paper formed an abstract still life.
“Yep, that works.” Cub went and dragged a chair closer to the wall, so he could reach the spider a lot easier. Sure, he might possibly have been able to get it without chair, but that would required him jumping and hoping for the best. He had one shot for this, though, so it had to work out the first time. Okay, maybe he had more tries, but one shot before the spider would know what was going on. Then he grabbed a mug and a sheet of paper full of idle doodles. Those would be his weapons for now.
As silently as he could muster he climbed up on top of the chair. That was to say, he wasn’t really silent, because the chair was made of wood and apparently felt quite insulted at being used as a glorified stepladder, creaking in protest. Cub just hoped that regular spiders were at least a little bit deaf because otherwise, the benefit of surprise had just disappeared.
It didn’t seem like the spider particularly cared, though, just sitting in its little web, staring down at the capitalist and the room. Or rather… Staring down at the screens, and what was going on on them. The positioning was a little bit too perfect to be a coincidence.
“I didn’t think so, asshole,” Cub muttered under his breath, putting the cup over the spider in a smooth motion. The web broke, the sticky threads now either hanging down thanks to gravity or finding a new point of attachment on the edges of the cup. Then he slid the paper between the wall and the cup, after which he carefully took the improvised container between his hands, so the spider couldn’t escape. He could feel it move through the paper, feel where its legs tapped down with each skittering step. It was quite unnerving, somehow, even though he wasn’t in the slightest afraid of the little bastards.
Well, let’s show ‘em to X then.
Notes:
the cakening 2: electric boogaloo
Chapter 47
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Doc was nowhere near a state that could even loosely be described as “okay”. He was so sad and angry and done with the situation that he frankly barely cared about what happened next. Much as he didn’t want to admit it, the day had taken its toll, and he was looking forwards to the sweet embrace of dreamless sleep. The question was whether he actually could fall asleep with everything currently running through his mind. Oh, how tempting it was to just hole up in the comms tower for a while, far away from everything that had been going on. That way, there’d still be a bit of Scar near him, something beside the bits of armour and the shulker boxes and the cat treats he had picked up from the floor minutes before.
He couldn’t, though. There had been a reason they had come here, and wouldn’t forfeiting that reason mean Scar had died in vain? The cyborg frowned, pulling himself a bit more together with a shaky breath, forcing himself to care at least a little bit. Any time he spent here being a mess was time not spent on getting Scar and the others back. The Hermits were waiting for him to get back, to diagnose what was wrong with Biffa and hopefully figure out a way to help him. And after that… hopefully Biffa could in turn help them.
Before doing anything else, before picking up any of the other tools he needed, he first took some blocks of cobblestone, plopping them down in such a way that the entrance to the hangar was blocked. All the while he was berating himself for not thinking of that earlier. Had they done that, Scar would’ve still been here. Doc stopped in his track, clenching his fists and closing his eyes shut as he tried to not let a sense of failure and guilt wash over him.
No. Don’t think like that, that won’t bring me anywhere. I can’t change the past, but I CAN change the future. I gotta focus on the future here. I’m gonna bring that bastard down. I swear, I’m gonna bring them down.
A breath filled with purpose left his mouth as he made up his mind. If he could channel his emotions towards revenge, that would be a lot more productive than sitting here wallowing and being sad and angry. With a short nod and a little bit more determination in his eyes, he went back to what he was doing, which in this case was gathering up the various tools and cables he was going to need. Some were simply screwdrivers or tools to remove plating, others were clasps connected to a small display via a cable. There were more scanners as well as a small computer that had diagnostic programs programmed into it. Doc had no doubt that he was going to need that.
It all disappeared into a shulker box that then proceeded to go into his inventory, now quite full with all kinds of things. There was nothing in there that he particularly wanted to toss out or leave behind, though, most of it was necessary if only for the purpose of remembrance and promise. Then, after checking whether he had everything for one last time, the cyborg took up his fireworks, ready to once more leave for the bunker.
Even though he had originally wanted to keep up his façade of calm and reason, he had realised that if he didn’t allow himself to be emotional now, what reason would be good enough?
Ten seconds. I could have saved him if I had been ten seconds faster, if I had doubted myself ten seconds shorter. Maybe even five would’ve been enough.
Xisuma looked miserable as he sat there, hugging Jellie tightly as he cried. He wondered whether she knew, even though they had been careful to not say what had happened out loud. For now she seemed to be accepting the hugs, only looking moderately miserable as his tears rolled onto her fur. A hand appeared on his shoulder – either Impulse or Tango, he wasn’t sure – then started rubbing small circles with its thumb, and the admin found himself leaning into the touch. Even though the other two had to know that he had screwed up, they were still there for him, and that somehow made him feel better and worse. Better, because he knew there were people that still believed in him, even if he could not save all of his friends. Worse, because they just had to be disappointed in him. What else could they be? They had laid their trust in him as admin, and he had broken that trust.
“X, buddy, are you okay?” Impulse asked from what seemed to be a few meters away, though he knew that was wrong, probably. The sound seemed to… Well, almost muted, in a way. As though there was a wall between them, which Xisuma knew there most definitely wasn’t. That being said, though, he shook his head to answer truthfully. There was no use in lying, not to anyone that could see him, which both Impulse and Tango qualified for right at that moment.
“Ya know, it’s not your fault Scar- what happened wasn’t your fault, not even close. You couldn’t have known.” At the demon’s mention of her designated human, Jellie perked up, looking around as though searching for him. It made Xisuma’s breath hitch in his throat as he gently stroked her back.
“I mean, I-I… You… I-I guess you’re r-right, but- just… Just a f-few s-seconds and-”
“We know. We don’t blame you, though. Did you know this would happen?”
“N-no, but-”
“If you had known, would you have done something different?”
“Of course, I-”
“Just answer the questions, X. You took longer double-checking everything to make sure your solution was absolutely correct, right?” Impulse continued, effortlessly catching on to what Tango was trying to do.
Xisuma sighed, more or less knowing where this was going.
“Yes, I did.”
“You did the best you could given the information you had at the time, right?”
“Yeah, but-”
“Then why are you blaming yourself for what happened?”
Xisuma finally looked up, and his brain shortly failed him. The other two had a point, one he couldn’t easily parry or deny. There were several conflicted corners of his mind screaming for his attention with ill-formed arguments and reasonings that stranded halfway through. The lines on his face spelled out that conflict for all to see as he tried to find words to express what was going on in his head.
Before he could get there, though, the door opened, and in came Cub, holding a mug in a very particular way, one of his hands covered in scratches and bits of blood.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but- oh.” His hands dropped a little as he sensed and saw the mood in the room. “I’m guessing you guys saw the message as well, huh?”
Xisuma rubbed over his forehead, wiping a few tears to the side.
“You could say that, yeah.” It queued Cub to tilt his head, staying silent to wait for an explanation of sorts.
“It came in the middle of X trying to fix the re-” Impulse was interrupted halfway through by the capitalist violently shushing him. Confusion seemed to spread on the faces of basically everyone that wasn’t Cub, Jellie included.
“Cub, what…?” Xisuma asked, and the other man tapped on the side of the mug a few times. Only now did he see the bit of paper poking out from under it, almost as though…
“I caught one of the bastards spying in the video room. What do we do with it?”
The admin’s expression hardened, his hand balling together in a shaking fist rather than continuing to stroke Jellie.
“Get rid of it. I don’t care how.” His voice was filled with icy rage and searing hate, way more cool and harsh than he usually was, not a single hint of care presenting itself. It scared the others, though maybe not as much as it scared Xisuma himself. He was never like this, not even when he had banned- Even that time hadn’t brought him this far down a path of wanting to see something obliterated. Then again, that person had not been as evil as the bastard they were facing now. Arachne had actually killed and abducted and brainwashed and he would not stand for one of their lackeys just waltzing into their hideout and spying on them. It would just not fly.
“I’m going to instate a new rule: any spider is to be exterminated on sight, except if that would put you in mortal danger. Especially when they’re in the bunker.”
He was rudely awakened from his meditation-turned-nap by the sound of voices and blocks being placed. For the shortest moment, before he opened his eyes, he had forgotten where he was, instead believing he was in his base, napping away near a furnace array. As he opened his eyes, though, the harsh reality set in. Instead of the dark wood and stone bricks he half-expected, he was greeted by walls and a ceiling of black nothingness, and in front of him, he saw something moving. Multiple things, even.
The purple wings easily gave away the identity of the one currently in the process of placing slabs on the ground, just a bit out of reach. The spider was present too, fiddling with a chain and something in their arms. Immediately, Wels was on his guard, squinting his eyes shut again and looking through his lashes. It would probably be best to pretend to be asleep for a little bit longer, lest he gave them any ideas. Nevertheless, he did want to know what they were up to.
Judging by the fact that the slabs and chain seemed to be positioned much in the same way as the ones he was on were, he’d almost say they were preparing for another poor soul to be abducted and captured. The possibility already hurt his heart. None of them deserved this, none at all.
Grian – or, well,‘Grian’ – finished up the square of slabs and stepped aside, folding his arms behind his back like some kind of servant waiting for orders, and the knight swallowed. This was so not how the builder should be acting. Even during his various bits of acting and roleplaying, he never managed to completely get rid of that puppy-like enthusiasm and energy, always moving this or that, always with the beginning of a smile in his eyes. And this version of him just… Well. He stood still with almost vacant eyes, barely any emotion to be seen. Or… Actually, that wasn’t completely true. Wels could see a hint of something that could only be described as sadistic glee, and it made him wonder what had happened, what had made Grian turn into this… this twisted version of himself.
He thanked me, when we met last. He thanked me for causing him to be this way, but… What did I do? Why would he say that? I didn’t do anything, I didn’t even see him when I got here. I just- Oh. I ran past him while fleeing from that spider. Is that it? Is it because I chose running away and maybe living over going to see him and certainly dying? But… what does that have to do with anything?
He must have made a sound, because next thing he knew, ‘Grian’ was looking at him intently. Wels instinctively closed his eyes completely, hoping he hadn’t noticed, and he waited.
“Master, I think he’s awake,” echoed through the room, and the knight swallowed. Seems like he had noticed. Great. Still, it sounded like he might not have been sure about it, so maybe Wels still had a chance, if he could just play the role of being asleep a little bit longer.
“Check it, little spider...” The voice sent shivers down his spine, and not a second later he heard footsteps approaching. The rattling of chains subsided, and something heavy was put on the floor, but Wels dare not look. The footsteps stopped in front of him, and he felt a hand being laid on top of his head, followed by a thumb pulling up his right eyelid. He could see ‘Grian’ standing in front of him, blocking his vision as he peered at his eye to figure out whether he was awake or not.
The knight did his best to not look around further, and to breathe slowly, the little things he knew a sleeping person would do. Nevertheless, something must’ve betrayed him, because the next thing he knew was that ‘Grian’ was grinning. That could not bode well. The thumb disappeared, and he let his eyelid fall closed again, even though his gut told him to not do that, to keep his eyes on the enemy.
“He’s most definitely pretending, Master.”
His stomach sunk, and not just because of the way his friend seemed to be serving his enemy.
“Excellent…” Skittering footsteps sounded coming closer, as a pair of more human footsteps moved ever so slightly away. “Stop pretending, little fly. You aren’t fooling anyone.” Judging by the sound, and the fact that he could ever so faintly feel the air move as they spoke, he knew they had to be very close right now, closer than he was comfortable with. Then again, it didn’t seem like the spider had a notion of the concept of personal space.
Despite his gut’s better judgement, Wels decided to just not listen and keep pretending to sleep. Little acts of resistance were the only kind of fighting that was really viable right now After all, there was no way that his bare fists would be able to dent their carapace, no matter how hard he tried.
“Tsk… Don’t you want to see your friend?” It seemed like they moved away now, and seconds later he heard something impacting with flesh, followed by a soft whimper.
And it wasn’t ‘Grian’ making that sound, Wels was sure of it. Morbid curiosity overtook him, and he opened his eyes to a squint, looking over to the other set of slabs. He hadn’t quite expected to see someone else wearing the same kind of clothes as ‘Grian’ did, and the face was turned away from him. Still, this was someone he recognised. The scarring on basically every bit of exposed skin gave it away, especially when combined with that brown hair. The green that seemed to be infesting the man’s veins worried Wels more than a little.
No! Not Scar too!
His teeth clenched together, and the knight opened his eyes further. He didn’t want to have Scar be hurt more because he refused to cooperate. Had the spider just slapped or kicked Wels, that he could live with, but letting others be hurt because of his actions… That went against his code.
“That’s what I thought...” The face of the spider changed expression, their mandibles moving to something that had to be a grin of sorts. Wels returned the foulest look he could muster, not at all impressed. He mostly just hoped that the spider and their servant would leave soon, so he could check up on Scar, who looked like he was out cold.
“And what does the little fly say, now that I brought him a friend?” If he had been able to, Wels would have made his expression even fouler, but he couldn’t. Instead, he spat in the direction of the spider.
“Screw you, that’s what.” The spider came closer, looking at him with a glint of something in their many eyes.
“Oh? That is not what I had in mind, little fly. Try again.” Their voice turned dangerously low, like a rumble preceding a volcanic eruption. It wasn’t like Wels didn’t know what they wanted him to say. It was that he absolutely refused to say it. He was not going to thank someone for killing yet another of his friends. Absolutely not. The spider came closer, and instead of moving away from it he stood up, using the slabs to stand a little bit taller. Even so, the spider towered above him, and he had to look up to properly face them.
They bent forwards, grabbing his chin and pushing it up even further, the sharp claws at the end of their fingers biting into his skin.
“Well? I’m waiting, little fly.”
“Hi waiting, I’m not gonna listen to you.” Wels stared at them, dead-set on spiting them before even considering saying anything nice to them. It seemed to anger them a little bit, judging by the hard punch that connected to his solar plexus, knocking the air out of him. Wels was wheezing, trying to get the breath back in his lungs, but it was worth it. Despite the pain, though, there was a victorious smile on his face. Someone that had to resort to violence to get their way had already lost the battle in his opinion.
“The little fly will regret that.”
“Oh, will I now? I don’t care what you do to me!” It looked like that pushed some buttons. Their claws now actually pierced through his skin as they lifted his chin further, forcing him to stand on his toes in order to not be lifted into the air. This time, he actually saw the blow coming, and the knight was able to flex his muscles to catch the brunt of it. Still, he groaned as it connected, thanks to the sheer amount of power behind it. And yet… it didn’t wipe the smile from his face. It seemed to frustrate the spider even more, and they looked like they were about to do something more significant damage-wise.
Right before following through with it, though, they stopped. Their grin returned as they slowly lowered him back to the ground.
“The little fly does not care about himself… but what about his friends?” There was a sound that almost had to be a chuckle or a laugh, in context, and that actually scared Wels more than anything they could have done to him. They walked over to Scar’s still motionless body, and his gut turned.
“NO!” He moved forwards, his hand outstretched in an attempt to get to the other man, to shield him from harm. “He has nothing to do with this, you hear me?! Leave him out of it!”
“Then say it.” For a moment, they looked at him, waiting for what he would do. Then, given that he didn’t say anything for two seconds, still thinking about what to do, they lashed out with one of their many legs. It connected to Scar’s unprotected flank, and a groan emerged from his mouth.
“Well?” The leg was pulled back again, and raised for another kick. Wels bit his lip as the chain fell short, stopping his grasping fingers half a meter too early. He really didn’t want to say it, but he also really didn’t want to see his friends get hurt, let alone because of him. Conflict warred on his face, but didn’t resolve fast enough. The leg came down again, and it was followed by a whimper. Wels’ hands balled to fists, his brows knitting together in anger.
I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to but please please please don’t hurt my friends I don’t want anyone to hurt my friends. I can say those words, I have to be able to, I have to if it helps my friends. I can take a blow to my ego if that means Scar won’t get hurt more.
He clenched his eyes shut, pushing his internal conflict towards a victory on one side. As he did so, he could hear yet another combination of a kick and a groan, and he wondered somewhere how much more it would take before Scar would wake from whatever slumber he was in.
“Thank you,” he muttered, barely more than a whisper.
“What was that?” The spider had stopped in their tracks, leg still in the air to administer another kick.
“I said ‘Thank you’,” Wels growled, unhappy with the entire situation. “Now leave him alone, I did what you asked.”
Again, that horrible, horrible chuckle sounded.
“The little fly should know better than to try to command me.” As if to punctuate that sentence, they kicked once more, this time eliciting a whimper that lasted a bit longer than the previous ones had, and Scar actually started moving a little. The spider scoffed, and moved away from him. Their eyes locked with Wels’ eyes, and there was a hint of something in there that the knight really didn’t like.
“Have fun, little flies.” With a simple gesture, they walked out of the room, seemingly disappearing through the walls, with ‘Grian’ following suit.
And then Wels was alone with Scar.
Notes:
so uh... this one is a little bit longer cause that happened accidentally. whoopsie. i just wanted to hit 80k i guess
in any case! thank y'all for 6k hits! it means a lot to me ^^
that being said, did y'all know theres actually a discord server for this fic? send me a message on tumblr (@fluid-quartz) and ill give you the link!
Chapter 48
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Time ticked by slowly but surely, and he had no way of keeping track of it besides counting seconds in his head and observing others. For all he knew it could be far into the night, but he had no way to check it. After all, he doubted the two others he knew were there would answer any of his questions, and it wasn’t like the windows let in any kind of natural light. There was just the harsh glow of end rods to light up the place, and it was starting to annoy him.
What was more annoying, though, were the ropes forcing him into the same position for seconds, minutes, hours too long. The sensors in his shoulders and knees had been registering an unhealthy amount of strain, and the heat sensors around his wrists had told him that the friction caused by the rope shifting over the metal had heated the panels up quite a bit. Both things that weren’t too good for his body and the circuitry within. Still, he was probably better off than anyone else in this situation. After all, the servant didn’t exactly have skin that the rope could bite into, no blood circulation that could be cut off to speak of. And any damages sustained could be repaired fairly easily with the right tools. Ah, the joys of being a consciousness uploaded to a robotic vessel…
Nevertheless, even if he was better off than others, that still didn’t mean that his situation was one he didn’t want to get out of. On the contrary. If he could, he’d obliterate the ropes, and the chair, and the door to his cell, and anyone standing in his way of getting back to his liege, former friends or not. And yet, here he sat, unable to open up his inventory, unable to access his swords. They must’ve taken those from him while he was out, as the entire belt was missing, scabbards and all. His coat, his symbol of status, was gone too, and that was perhaps the thing he was most pissed over. Perhaps his idea of obliterating his way back home would need to be amended slightly to fit in getting his servants’ coat back. After all, he was quite positive about the fact that his liege would end him if he were to lose that.
Really, do these lowlifes have any idea what they have taken from me? Do they have any idea how much trouble they may have put me in?
There were no lowlifes he could currently ask those questions to, and he had no doubt they would not care. How could they? They had not yet embraced his liege as the one true ruler, and somehow still believed they were evil, where he knew that that wasn’t the case. His liege was genuinely a good person, who was simply trying to make the world a better place, and who understood that some sacrifices needed to be made for that. It was a hefty and important task, one that his liege had all too gracefully taken upon themselves such that no other would have to. They weren’t doing this for themselves, they were doing it for the betterment of everyone.
T he sound of a key turning in a lock broke through his thoughts, and almost immediately his eyes were on the metal door, cold and waiting. It swung open, and in came a man with green skin broken up by robotic parts in various places. A tattered labcoat hung from his shoulders, and in his hands he held a box, which was promptly put down to the side of the room, out of the servant’s reach. The expression on his face was neutral, but in a forced kind of way. It was something the servant could make use of.
“Oh, what have they done to you, Biffa?” the cyborg remarked, coming closer to inspect him. The servant remained silent. He did not recognise what was apparently a name that should mean something to him, and he had absolutely no reason to give the other man any kind of information. Instead, he just stared at him with hate-filled eyes, which the green man seemingly ignored as he came closer, looking over his various parts but not touching any of them yet.
“Hmm… This is gonna take some time to diagnose and repair. Really, you oughtta take better care of yourself, man, this ain’t healthy.”
Again, the servant did not answer. Instead, he scoffed, not believing someone could interpret the signs of his loyalty as something bad. Perhaps, though, this man could set him on the path back to his liege once more. He just needed to play his cards right, and to take his chance as it presented itself.
And so he found himself observing the cyborg as he moved around, getting back to the box and kicking it open. After that, he took out a bunch of electronics, wires and clasps and connectors and screens that jogged his memory but didn’t quite kickstart it just yet. He did , however, realise that those things could probably harm him just as much as any blade could, or perhaps even worse. The servant was not too giddy to show that, though, nor was he keen on showing the growing unease in his system. Then t he green man returned, shifting the electronics to one arm as he reached out with the other.
“I’m sure you know already, but this may feel a little bit... unpleasant.”
Without further warning, the man started pressing a few button combinations on the servant’s chest, gingerly evading the green lines that spread out all over it . It indeed was … u npleasant, but that was about all feeling he could attribute to it. None of his sensors registered any kind of pain or other anomalies, not really, but that didn’t mean the lack of feeling anything related to it was nice either. There was still the pressure, there was still the outright violation of his personal space, and each new press made him want to lurch out of the way but he couldn’t. At the same time, the situation somehow felt familiar, as though this had happened before. The cyborg seemed to know what he was doing, after all. And so he stared back at the other man, squinting, his bright green eyes filled with hate and disdain , not entirely sure about what would happen. Logically, he knew that he had to know it somewhere , but the memory was not just outside of his grasp.
What he did feel was a panel on the side of his neck popping open, sending a small pulse of electric discharge coursing through his limbs. That was also unpleasant, but in a different way. This was also exactly the point where he was done with this place. Capturing him, sure. Tying him up, that was logical. Annoying, but logical. Pressing his buttons, m aking his body do things outside of his command? That went too far.
“Stay off of me,” he bit towards the cyborg, as he bent as far away from his hands as he could. It wasn’t far, not really, and he knew he had to do something else to get out of this place. Judging by the twitchiness of the various pneumatic systems in his joints, his body did share that opinion, and he knew that given the chance, he would definitely bite or headbutt his way to freedom.
“This is for your own good, you know. I have to figure out what’s wrong with you, so I can fix it, so I can help you,” the other man said. There was a shaky quality to his voice, and he seemed a little bit taken aback by the servant’s justified hostility. Nevertheless, no matter how the other was feeling, he still continued, plugging the wires into the screen, which he then put in one of the pockets of his labcoat.
“I don’t need your help. On the contrary. You need mine.” The servant wiggled in his bonds, trying to get the chair to move away from the cyborg, or to break free. Either would be fine, though the latter was heavily preferred. “Don’t you see? Subject yourself to my liege and you will find freedom.”
“I’m not the one tied to a chair here, Biffa,” came his response through gritted teeth. “And even if I was, I would never follow someone that makes me murder my friends.” Maybe rougher than absolutely necessary, the cyborg put his hand on the side of the servant’s head, pushing it to the side to open up some more space to access his neck. “Hold still.”
That was exactly what the servant did not do. Instead, he was moving even more, trying to break free, not at all wanting to continue with whatever this was. It made a frustrated frown appear on the face of the other man, while he took the different wires in his hand, trying to plug them into his neck. Sensors all over his body were whining for his attention, to warn about overheating or overstretching or general security alerts, but he ignored them for now. The alerts were not going to help him right now.
“All those going against my liege need to be terminated, friend or not.” He spat out the words, the word ‘friend’ like poison on his tongue. He attempted to straighten his neck once more, but it was a battle of the pneumatic systems in his neck against the cybernetic systems in the cyborgs arm. And really, given the purpose of both it was not really a fair fight at all. He was shaking with strain, but the servant got exactly nowhere. On the contrary, the cyborg seemingly didn’t need to make an effort to keep him down at all. With a lot of ease the green man plugged the wires into his neck, each one sending a shock through his body, spreading a cold feeling throughout him.
A cold spread through him, and he gritted his teeth. He didn’t like this feeling, he never did, but Biffa knew why it was necessary. His left arm had been malfunctioning, and it didn’t seem to be a mechanical defect. And since hardware was in the clear, they needed to debug his software. Doc’s hands stopped as he noticed.
“You doing okay there? I can slow down if you want me to.” His thick accent poorly hid care, and Biffa shook his head.
“No, just keep going. The sooner this is over the better.”
“Alright man, but just tell me if it becomes to much.” The robot nodded, and tried to focus on something in the distance in order to take his attention away from the feeling. More wires were plugged in and clamps were attached to strategic points, the cold feeling spreading further until his entire body was shivering involuntarily. Still, he did not ask for Doc to stop or slow down.
“Okay, everything is set up. Whenever you’re ready I’ll put you in debug mode.”
“Just go for it, Doc. I’ll see you on the other side, and you better have some tea ready by then.” He trusted the other enough, they had gone through this multiple times already in cyborg club. Doc was damned good at what he did.
“You and your tea… is coffee okay too?” There was a smirk on his face as he started tapping some things on his screen, no doubt getting ready for the deep dive.
“Absolutely-” He was interrupted by the cyborg pressing a last button, his mind filling with static, his vision replaced by falling green code.
Him gritting his teeth was interrupted by a very clear memory, and he blinked a few times, as though a fog had just lifted ever so briefly. It came crashing back in just seconds later, clouding his memory once more. The cyborg didn’t seem to notice, too busy trying to type in something on his screen with one hand, the other still holding him down.
“Doc… you better have some tea ready… when I get back...” he found himself whispering as the clarity was replaced by static. He saw a look of recognition and surprise bloom on the cyborg’s face as his world shattered into bright green spider webs, the threads unravelling until only darkness remained.
[END OF ACT 1]
Notes:
sorry for the long delay, uni is more than a little bit busy. I don't know when the next chapter will come either, seeing as I'll be leaving on holiday next sunday.
also, do come yell at me either in the comments, on the discord, or on my tumblr! (@fluid-quartz)
Chapter 49: Arc 2 - 1
Summary:
A dimension outside of time shifts. A night begins. A morning comes.
Notes:
Welcome to Arc 2!
TW for very mild body horror throughout the last perspective
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The place was ever changing and yet always the same. The backdrop was a purple so dark it appeared as black, an endless expanse that seemed to loop on itself in multiple ways, multiple directions. Matterless matter swirled around, a glittering purple like stardust morphing between hundreds of shapes each minute, all barely recognisable as something real, something that existed somewhere, but pulled from its context and warped like a shadow on uneven ground. Generally the shapes didn’t cross or intersect, but when they did, the overlapping pieces turned entirely into a pulsing black darkness, falling away once more as the shapes shifted again.
In the middle of it all was a figure, floating between the shapes, unable to really interact with them. The matter didn’t care about them sticking out a hand to try and swirl it around even more, and so they had stopped doing it altogether. Not instantly, of course, but after a while it had started to feel ridiculous to even try. How long it had been… there was no way to be sure about it. There were no days here, no nights, and neither a feeling of hunger, thirst or tiredness. If anything, this place felt like stasis, ripped away from the space-time continuum until only space remained.
And yet, despite that feeling of stasis, that never changing place had changed. A distance away, something new had appeared. Something the figure knew from Before. Not a shape, but… a colour. Compared to the backdrop, it seemed almost neon, that was how bright the new matterless matter was. It still acted the same as the purple matter did, shifting between shape after shape after shape ad infinitum, only smaller this time. There was only a small amount of green amidst the sea of purple, but it most certainly had their attention, and they floated over towards the new matter. It wasn’t like there was anything to do except to float and to think, and they might as well do those things near an interesting change of scenery for a once.
At long last, the bunker had become silent and still, most people having finally decided to go to bed. The kitchen was a relative mess, and despite Cleo’s and Stress’ best attempts there were flour and sprinkles everywhere, with some splatters of batter left on the walls and ceiling where mixing had gone a little bit awry. At least they had properly done the dishes before going to surprise the others with cake.
Elsewhere, Joe was fast asleep, slumped in his chair next to Keralis, a book still laying open in his lap as his glasses slowly slid down his nose. His coffee cup stood empty and forgotten on the floor, on top of messily stacked plates. Keralis was unconscious as well, having been lulled to sleep by a gentle voice reciting poetry. His wounds had stopped bleeding too, courtesy of another healing potion, and come the morning nothing would remain but a faint scar.
Mumbo had wandered the hallways until he ran into TFC, who was able to fill him in on what had happened in the time he had been away burning down cobwebs and almost drowning. Sure, the story was perhaps not the most straight to the point, with quite a lot of backtracking and going off highly specific tangents related to bunker vault architecture at times, but it was complete and understandable. With that out of the way, the old man had basically kicked the redstoner to bed on the grounds of ‘layin’ unconscious in a damn boat don’t count as rest’. Mumbo had complied all too quickly, deciding to crash in the bunker instead of in his base. Somehow the thought of being out there on his own made his skin crawl.
Impulse had been the one to lead Doc to Biffa. The two of them had looked quite worried when they spotted False sitting on the ground, back against the wall, but a simple smile and accompanying gesture from Zedaph had seemingly taken most of that away. Doc had gone into the cell to do his thing, while Impulse had stayed behind, half to stand guard, and half to convince False that it was okay to go and take a break and a nap and to poke the other girls for some over-the-top cake. It took a while, but in the end he succeeded at that, also thanks to Zed’s help, and False finally agreed to go find either a bed or a nice armchair to curl up in. And so Zed and False walked off, first finding cake, then claiming one of the residential rooms. She had drifted away even before hitting the pillow, and he gently tucked her in before making himself comfortable in the chair, crossing his arms on the table and using that to lay his head on. No doubt his shoulders and back would complain about it in the morning, but that was well worth it. After all, he had promised False not to leave until she told him to, and even if she had, he’d rather not have her wake up all alone if she had bad dreams.
It hadn’t taken long for Cub to make his way down to the lowest levels of the bunker, where he found a small pool of lava that TFC generally used as a trash chute. It would certainly do for the purpose he had in mind. No kill like overkill, after all. Without much ceremony, he crouched down, coming as close to the searing hot liquid as he could without burning himself, and then tossing in the spider, mug and paper and all to give it no chance to escape. One short sizzle later, the items had molten and burnt away, leaving no sign of there existence except for the tiniest puff of smoke. With that out of the way, the capitalist returned to the surveillance room, making a small detour past the kitchen for some coffee. This could well be a very long night, without Scar’s banter to pass the time with. On the positive side, that would leave him with quite some time to figure out a solution to the wildfire problem, that more than likely was still raging in the mountains. While it was not really the largest issue they had right now, it still was a problem that best wasn’t forgotten about.
Meanwhile, Tango was trying to convince Xisuma to finally go to bed. The world wouldn’t just crash and burn overnight, and it was better to be rested before trying to delve too deep into the code and the fundamental truths of the world. At least, that’s what the demon thought. The admin didn’t entirely feel the same way, being hell-bent on monitoring whether his changes would stay and whether they had unpredicted side-effects. He wanted to be able to immediately intervene the moment things went wrong, instead of having to do damage control and clean-up later. Anything if it meant no one else would fall into the hands of that bastard. Xisuma explained that all in clear words, and then managed to call Tango ‘Zed’ instead. At first he tried to justify it by blaming his breathing mask, that it had simply warbled the sound too much, that that happened more often, that he wasn’t tired at all, but the demon’s stare combined with the eyebrow he raised higher and higher eventually made him fall silent. Then, with a muttered ‘yeah, maybe you’re right’ he caved, logging out and heading off to bed while Tango headed to the bathroom to wash the layers upon layers of sooth off his skin.
H
is eyes opened slowly, lazily blinking a few times as he stared into an abyss filled with light blue stars.
Jevin
couldn’t remember falling asleep, nor could he really guess what time it was, not without natural light.
About that was the moment reality started setting in.
Any serene feeling he
might have
had about what he saw disappeared when he realised the abyss was very much a wall, and that the stars were simply splatters of slime he had not been able to reach.
He shot upright, chain rattling as he did so.
Right. That’s where I was.
He looked around, first and foremost checking whether he was alone. It surprised him a little that that bastard had let him sleep and heal up a bit, given the threat they had made before leaving. There was no one in the room with him, which was a good thing for now. Breathing out slowly, Jevin let go of some of the tension in his shoulders, before gently stretching. Then he rubbed his wrist. The
jagged
line where his
slime
had been torn away and reattached was clearly visible,
the
bits
that had fallen off having turned a little bit lighter due to dehydration. Sure, it would revert back to its original colour eventually, but for now he’d have to deal with a hand that looked a little bit deformed and discoloured. Still, it beat
not
having a hand.
Jevin went to sit on his knees. With the inspection of his wounds done, he finally had the time to try and figure out where the hell that sound of chain had come from, and it didn’t take long for him to spot it. Grabbing the metal, his hand followed it up to the place where it
was connected to a collar around his neck.
Well, that’s that figured out then. That a-hole forgot one thing, though.
A grin appeared on his face despite the situation he was in. He took the collar with both hands, then gently started pressing it upwards, towards his head. At the same time, he forced his slime to slowly morph out of the way, squeezing and stretching in order to fit through the metal ring. It was slow, so slow, but there was no reason to hurry, not right now at the very least.
Minutes passed, then some more, but eventually he held the collar in his hands, the last bits of his face shifting back into their original position.
“And that’s what we call a pro-gamer move,” he muttered to himself as he put it aside and stood up. It was time to get out of here.
Notes:
Well, its been a while, but i think im finally able to continue this!
As always, I'm more than happy to read your reactions and theories, both here and on tumblr (do i really need to link that again?)
Chapter 50: Arc 2 - 2
Summary:
Day breaks. Plans are made. A blinding light shines.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
As always, he awoke by the gentle flutter of the backups materialising on the floor next to him. Xisuma yawned, half wanting to get up, half wanting to just turn around and sleep for a few minutes more. The knowledge that it was only sunrise didn’t help one bit with the decision, but at the same time he knew that there was still a lot to be done before they could fly out to get back their friends.
In the end, he just grunted, deciding to read the logs like some kind of morning paper, and then get up. It seemed like an acceptable compromise, especially since he hadn’t been able to skim through the digital logs the evening before. He reached down, picking the papers from the floor, and then shifted himself and his pillow around so he could comfortably sit up as he read.
Most of the logs weren’t even that interesting to read through. Some diagnostics of local energy levels and waves, an hour-to-hour weather report and predictions for the day to come, statistics on farm efficiency, and a small section dedicated to trade price changes, like a tiny stock exchange report. All a lot easier to digest in digital form, as he would actually have interactive graphs and diagrams then.
Then there were also those bits that mattered a lot more. The fire warnings showed that at least part of the extinguishing attempts had worked, the fire only having spread north, into the swamp area bordering on the mountains. Some areas along the edges had burnt out in the meanwhile, but it seemed the heart of the mountains was still burning as brightly as the day before. At least, that’s what he could deduce from the temperature charts. Xisuma took a mental note to ask someone on the tech team to send out a drone for surveillance and reconnaissance in the area, and then continued on to the next part.
One he dreaded, frankly. It was the conversation logs of the day before. It didn’t contain any of the private chats between Hermits, they never had, but he knew what would be in them. Nevertheless, the admin started scanning through them, his eyes getting pulled to the lines in bold font without his express permission. Iskall. Python. Ren. Wels. Wels again. Jevin. Scar. Each of the death messages he read back felt like a dagger to his heart, but he couldn’t stop himself from going over them, one by one. Xisuma closed his eyes, holding his forehead against the papers for a bit.
“I’ll get all of you back, don’t you worry. Just hang in there a little bit longer, we’re coming soon.”
“Hey Ren?”
“Hmm…? What is it, Iskall?”
“It’s been quite a while, and… Well, we’re still stuck here. As much as I don’t like to think about it, I… it may be time to talk about what we’ll do if they-” the swede looked down and away from the hippie, not entirely happy with what he was going to have to say “- if the Hermits don’t come. I’m not saying they won’t! Just… What’s our contingency plan?”
Ren stayed silent for a bit, looking from Iskall to Python, who was starting to stir once more. He had a pensive expression on his face as he slowly stroked over his injured arm.
“Well, that all depends on if we can get out of this cell or not. If we can, we should try to get out of this place. If not…” He trailed off towards the end, and Iskall looked up. Ren was chewing on his lip, his brows knitted together. “Well… I don’t think there’s many options, then. Question is how long we’re willing to hold out waiting for the others.” His eyes drifted off towards the plate of grey sludge that was apparently food, A strange expression on his face before he shook his head and refocussed on Iskall. “Of course, that’s only if the Hermits don’t come, and I would bet quite a bit on the fact that they will.”
Iskall nodded, but looked away.
“So our backup plan is just... giving up, then, giving in to whatever that spidery bastard wants?” His voice was soft and sad, lacking its usual energy. Logically, he knew it had only been a day, maybe two tops since they had come here, and there was no reason to give up yet. He knew Grian hadn’t given up, either, not for three days, and he had been locked up all alone. Logically, he knew he should most definitely be able to keep up the hope a few days longer at the very least, if not more. Still, he knew that comparing himself to others wasn’t fair, not towards himself and not towards his friends. That Grian had managed to keep hoping and keep fighting didn’t mean he could.
It can still inspire me, though. It can still give me a reason to keep fighting, if only because it could help him.
“You okay over there, dude?” Ren broke through his thoughts, and Iskall blinked to get back to the here and now.
“Yeah, I’m… No, you know what? I’m not fine. I want my eye back, I want my friggin’ depth perception back, I just want to go home.” He let himself fall down on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Is it too much to ask for this all to just be over?” he whispered as his breath suddenly caught in his throat. Somewhere to the side, he could hear shuffling and the now-familiar rattling of chain.
“We’ll get out of here, one way or another. Just… Just keep hope a little longer. The Hermits will be here soon, allow them some time. Wels only gave them the coords less than a day ago, and despite X being the admin they still need to fly to get places. To fly and to prepare armour and weapons and food and rockets… All of that costs time, and that’s still without accounting for any time they would need for making some kind of weird and over the top plan to keep themselves to. You gotta give them some time, dude.”
Ren’s voice sounded closer than it had before, but Iskall didn’t look for its source. He was fine just staring at the ceiling for now, if there even was one. His eye stung, and the collar felt more choking than it had before. Or it could just be a lump in his throat, he wasn’t too sure, nor did he care particularly much.
“I know, I know… And yet-” He only barely managed to swallow down a sob, his voice rising in pitch. The pressure on his throat only grew, and he wasn’t too sure he would be able to say a whole lot more without actually starting to cry.
Again, the chain rattled a little, followed by Ren cursing under his breath.
“Look, I’m not particularly thrilled to sit here a few hours longer, believe me, but we don’t really have a choice here. We gotta deal with what we’ve got and keep the mood up until the Hermits finally haul their asses over here. Alright?” The gentle rustle of clothes betrayed that he moved some more. “Just so you know, I’m holding out my hand so you can shake it or hold it or whatever, this damned chain isn’t letting me closer. Thought I’d tell ya, cause you seem rather preoccupied with staring daggers at the ceiling there.” Ren followed up his words with a soft chuckle, laughing at his own little joke.
Iskall, on the other side, felt a bit of wetness travelling down the side of his face, his chest shocking with every silent sob. Still, his hand reached out to the side, first patting around the stone, searching for Ren’s hand. As he found it, he hesitated only briefly before grabbing it in a tight vice grip. The hippie’s thumb started gently stroking the top of his hand, not even breaking its rhythm as Iskall’s nails dug into his skin, finally allowing himself to just cry the pain and fear from his system.
As time passed, more and more of the green matterless matter appeared, swirling around freely, unpredictably. The figure had since started and stopped wondering where it came from, knowing the matter itself wouldn’t give them the answer. Nevertheless, on occasion they still philosophised about it. After all, there wasn’t much more to do for them, and this was more pleasant than trying to overanalyse the circumstances of them getting sent here. A lot more pleasant. Even after all this time, they weren’t sure as to why it had happened in the first place.
Whatever it was, that didn’t change the situation. They were stuck there, with no clear way out. And so, the figure simply observed, waiting for their chance to get out of this place, waiting to go back to Before, if that was still even a possibility. They observed as the green swirls intersected with more green, and where purple colliding with purple turned the deepest black, this turned into a brighter light than they had ever seen. The light was gone before their eyes had stopped hurting, long used to the dim darkness of this place.
From that point forth, with the growth of green meant more sudden flashes of light, too blinding to look straight into, too quickly gone to slowly get used to. If only their visor could block it… Yet, they could only wish for that. There was no way to adjust it without the proper tools, without taking the helmet off. As far as they knew, they were the only thing of actual matter around, air included, thus adjusting the visor was a sheer impossibility. They’d just need to learn how to live with the blinding flashes.
And so they floated, their once simple world quickly turning into a kaleidoscope of green and purple, the deepest darkness and the brightest light.
Notes:
Chapter 50 guys! This story's come a long while since I started it back in September, and I couldn't be happier with how y'all received it so far! So uh, here's to the next milestone :D
Chapter 51: Arc 2 - 3
Summary:
Inner conflict and realisations. Similar, yet not the same. Serene collision.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Urgh...”
He woke up feeling as though he had fallen down a flight of stairs. His body felt stiff and sore, and with every breath he took he became acutely aware of how much his ribs hurt. The ground he was laying on felt hard, but not cold in the slightest, a testament to how long he’d been on there, in that exact spot. Finally, his eyes fluttered open, and he was met with total darkness in front of him. For the briefest of moments, he wondered whether he was looking out into the void, and what place would enable him to do so. Then a voice rang out, the sound echoing slightly, as though he was in an enclosed room.
“Scar? Are you awake? You’ve been out for quite a while there...” The voice came from behind him, worry and tension gently woven through the words. He sat up quickly, ready to punch something if it posed any kind of threat, although he didn’t quite understand why that was his instinct. After all, there was nothing bad that could happen to him, not while in their care, and-
No, no, no, wait, hold up a minute there. That’s wrong. This place – wherever it may be – is anything but safe.
Scar blinked a few times, then shook his head to get rid of the thought. Then he looked around, focussing on the source of the voice.
“Yeah, I am,” he said, voice hoarse and throat hurting. What had happened was woozy, but little bits of detail were slowly coming back to him as time passed. He had died, and they had been there to welcome him-
He gritted his teeth as he rejected the thought.
No, that’s not what happened. They strangled me, that ain’t a welcome in my book.
He heard chain rattle and pull taut as Wels inched closer, and somehow, his body’s response was to back away from this enemy his friend. It made the knight stop in his tracks, lines of worry deepening on his forehead, a flicker of hurt in his eyes.
“Scar, it’s me, Wels. I’m not going to hurt you, don’t worry,” he spoke, voice gentle as he made simple calming motions with his hands. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? Do take all the time you need.”
Scar opened his mouth, then closed it again, not entirely sure what to say. He felt quite fine bad, and he just knew something was messing with his thoughts. The question was how he could translate the vague and ominous feeling of something being very wrong into proper words. He closed his eyes, rubbing the side of his head. His hands moved down, to his neck, finding a metal collar where there shouldn’t be one. The landscaper looked down, now also finding how his shirt had been replaced with something else. Dull geen lines snaked under his pale skin and even paler scars, and a sharp set of bright green lines that looked like part of a spider was on his chest, peeking out from under the side of the coat he was wearing. Scar blinked, a shaky breath rolling over his lips. He felt fear start to root in his mind, not because of the marks, but because his first thought about them was that they were exactly where they were supposed to be.
“Wels… I think something is wrong with me.” The words rolled over his lips like a sigh, and Wels’ brows knitted together. The knight’s head tilted slightly, a silent invitation to go on.
“I… I keep having these thoughts, and I don’t… I’m not sure if they’re mine, y’know? Like, they’re telling me there’s nothing to fear here, and I guess that’s true, but-” Suddenly realising what he was saying, he clasped his hands over his mouth, his eyes wide. Wels visibly winced as he did so, Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed. The landscaper took a moment to compose himself, shaking the thoughts out of his head and focussing on the there and then.
It’s gonna be fine. It will be, I just gotta fight this and it’ll be fine.
I’ll be serving them in no time.
Goosebumps crawled over his skin as he involuntarily shivered, his breaths becoming more and more shallow and rapid.
“Please… I don’t wanna become like Biffa.”
It was a soft, satisfied beep that pulled Doc back to the world of the living. He had been shifting in and out of naps for the past few hours, periodically checking whether the scans had finally completed. The entire process was taking longer than he had expected at first, and the simple diagnostic tools he had used in the beginning had failed to find any issues aside from a few physical issues that mostly came down to joints that needed oiling or bits of plating that needed patching up. Nothing about the green lines, nothing about overrides to mental functioning, nothing at all that could indicate this was anything else than the Biffa they knew and loved.
Frankly, it was almost as though whatever was causing this was capable of just… evading the simpler tools, to move around them so it couldn’t be spotted. As though it was sentient and alive, in a way. And so, instead of the two hours he thought it would have taken with the simple tools, Doc had felt it necessary to take out some of the more specific ones, and multiple hours had been added to the counter.
As he walked closer to the robot, he briefly eyed the now cold cup of tea standing expectantly on the ground next to him. The teabag was still in there, the beverage steeped to a point that not even Biffa or Xisuma would like it any more.
Guess I’ll have to brew up a new one… I’ll get you back, buddy, don’t you worry.
Logically, Doc knew that he could always get Biffa back by the sheer merit of him technically being an artificial lifeform. Backups existed, they had made sure of that, so in the absolute worst case he could always opt for completely reformatting and then restoring a backup. Thing was, he really, really didn’t want to have to resort to that. Not only did it just feel plain wrong to mess with the memory of one of his friends, he could also actually have knowledge they needed, insider information on their enemy, knowledge that would be gone if he went for the reformat option.
He picked up one of the monitors currently connected to the robot, breathing out slowly before taking a look at it. A bold font proclaimed the scan had been completed, and just below it he could see the start of a diagnostic report. For this scan, instead of running diagnostics, Doc had opted to compare Biffa as he was now to earlier scans that were in the system. That way, he’d in theory be able to find differences, even for things the system currently indicated as normal and not out of the ordinary.
Impatiently, he scrolled down to see whatever numbers and graphics the system had spit out. Doc skipped the text for now, he just wanted to see the results.
>>Similarity: 3%
The cyborg blinked, then frowned. That’s… a lot lower than I expected. Does clear up a few things though. If almost his whole programming got overhauled… No wonder the earlier scans didn’t pick up anything wrong in context, if all the context is wrong.
He rubbed over his face. It was the three percent similarity that threw him for a loop at that point. Did that have anything to do with the moment of clarity Biffa seemingly experienced seconds before the deep dive? Was that how he could get him back, by somehow triggering something that would crank up that similarity level to the point of it overpowering whatever alternate programming Biffa had going on? It would help a lot if only he knew what had caused that initial three percent.
With a sigh, he put away the display. Then he walked to the wall, and allowed himself to slide down it. This could very well turn out to be a difficult if not impossible path to getting Biffa back, but he could only try. His eyes found the ground as he zoned out for a moment, thinking about how he could even start this task, but then quickly wandered back to the robot, still slumped in his chair, wires jutting out from the ports in his neck. For now, debug mode didn’t really have any added value. Doc even wondered whether he was able to do any tests that would help him even a smidgeon further, and if that wasn’t the case, wasn’t it then just better to wake Biffa up again?
Another sigh rolled over his lips. Yeah… can’t let the guy stay in this mode for too long, that’s like keeping someone in a coma. Doc worked himself back to his feet and walked over to his friend. As he did, he accidentally almost kicked the cup of tea across the floor, and he stopped in his tracks. His eyes were fixated on the thing in all its mundanity, completely undrinkable by now, and yet, full of meaning. Doc blinked, then picked up the cup.
His eyes went from the cup to Biffa and back.
Then, with a single nod, he turned around and left the room. Best to have a fresh cup of tea ready for when the robot woke up once more.
The kaleidoscope of light and dark cycled on and on and on, seemingly with no discernible end in sight. The amounts of green and purple matter had started evening out, their show of lights still ever present as the figure floated between it. Touching the green matter had proven to be as pointless as trying to touch the purple matter, and they could simply not move fast enough to get to the flashes of light or dark as they happened to try the same thing.
Most of the time, they simply spent their time with their eyes half-closed, to shut out the blinding lights, but sometimes, when the simple act of thinking became too much, they opened up to look around, to find recognisable shapes in the flowing matter. It was almost like looking at clouds, except now at a faster pace.
It was thanks to one of these matter-watching breaks that he spotted it for the first time: Green and purple matter collapsing and overlapping. No bright light shone from it, nor deep darkness. Instead, it was… Colours. Blue, to be exact. A deep azure blue, divided by a simple horizontal line from a bright cerulean. White weaved through cerulean, appearing and disappearing almost periodically. More greyish shapes soared through the azure, circling and going in straight lines, rapidly dropping to touch the cerulean before regaining height once more.
The figure stopped to look at it, but before they managed to realise what it was, the matter moved once more, and the vision disappeared.
Notes:
Sorry it's been a while! I had a lot of trouble getting the creative juices flowing for this story, and decided to take a short break.
As such, I can't really say when the next chapter's gonna release. Might be soon, might not be, only time will tell.
So yeah. Still, you guys' support means the world to me, so thanks for sticking with me!
Chapter 52: Arc 2 - 4
Summary:
A daring escape. Fortune favours the bold.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
In theory, Jevin knew where the exit of his cell was. He had seen the spider leave, after all. The issue was that all walls looked like the same endless black void, save for the occasional splatter of dried blue slime. Still, despite there not being any real points of reference, he knew he’d find the way out eventually. He just needed to move quickly and quietly, such that the spider would only discover he was gone after he had left the building. That was the plan, in any case.
Thus, he moved over to one of the walls, each step accompanied by the soft schluck of slime. Still, all Jevin heard was the rapid beating of his own heart, growing louder and faster as the tension in his body rose. Frankly, quite a lot depended on him getting out of here. Things such as his sanity and autonomy, but in a way, the safety of the other Hermits as well. While he wasn’t as formidable a foe as False or maybe Doc, he was still quite well at handling himself in a fight.
Jevin took a moment to breathe in and out, grounding himself once more before sticking his hand out to the wall, to find the exit. Assuming this place only had one way out, it would be as simple as to just walk around quickly until his hand no longer found wall where the blackness started. His pace was fast, knowing that time was ticking for his escape plan.
Wall. Wall. Still wall. More wall. Ah! There we go. Jevin one, spider… actually, let’s not think about that.
A smirk appeared on his lips nonetheless as he slipped through the exit, popping up on the other side of the ‘wall’. He swore he had seen a construction like this before, but he also knew he had no time to think about it at that point. Getting out of his cell was only the first step. Next up was getting out of this place. Luckily, he had a good idea as to where to go next, as he peeked around the doorway that connected his cell to a hallway. There was not a lot of light in there, and he could see the very faint outline of cobwebs on the walls, with the occasional spider scurrying through them. To both sides he could see more doorways, and if he listened well, he could even hear some very soft mutterings coming from beyond a few of them.
However strong the urge was to go and check it out, to see if his friends were okay, Jevin knew he had no time to waste. It was best to not let them know that he was attempting another escape.
I’m coming back for all of you .
A soft sigh rolled over his lips as he made the promise to himself, his eyes briefly closed. Then he looked up once more, face scrunched up in determination. The slime man nodded to himself, took another big gulp of air, and then started moving towards the end of the hallway, where stairs lead upwards. He moved quickly but quietly, trying to find the optimal balance between the two. Jevin just knew the spide rs on the walls could see him, he felt their tiny eyes pricking in his back, but at the same time he knew there was no way he was going to get past here without that happening, especially not with the distinct shortage of supplies he was dealing with. Besides, as long as the large spidery bastard didn’t see him, all was well. Same went for Not Grian, really, with whatever was going on with him.
He took the stairs two at a time, going around the corner, but sticking to the inner part of the turn for as long as he could. Just before the end, though, he stopped, taking a scouting glance into a hallway he recognised. He had been there before, which was a good thing. It meant he had to spend less time exploring, already knowing the route further upwards, towards what hopefully was the exit.
With no one in sight, he just went for it. There was no point in waiting for a better moment, because for all he knew, that moment wouldn’t come at all. He flitted past the open doorways to some storerooms, past the door to the chamber he had respawned into, and around the corner at the end of that hallway. Far in front of him was an open door, but he knew that that was not the door he was looking for.
While he knew what was there, Jevin still felt his stomach drop a little when he saw the outline of the spider, unmoving in flickering green candlelight. Those candles did seem significantly shorter than they had been earlier, but he couldn’t say with certainty how much time had passed since the last time he had been here.
He slowed down, knowing that this was more or less where his knowledge of the layout stopped. He knew there was still that large door to the left upcoming, as well as a staircase up, and he really hoped that Arachne was behind that door, taking a nap or something. Anything that meant they had no time to be looking for him. Luck could be on his side for once, couldn’t it?
At the corner, he stopped. Careful not to disturb the webbing on the wall he looked around it, spotting nothing but empty hallway. The door to the left was open, though, which could screw him over royally, but it was something he’d have to see when he got there. His eyes drifted around further, glancing back into the temple-like room. Something in one of the further corners stirred slightly, green and purple and pale. It was curled up on the floor, eyes closed and sleeping, and one double take later, Jevin realised what it was. Or rather, who it was.
You too, Grian. I’m getting you back. I won’t stand for this, I won’t stand for any of this.
Then he continued moving, not really wanting to figure out what would happen if he stayed there until the builder would wake up. Instead, he went on, now choosing stealth over speed, or at the very least until he was past that door and out of earshot. He moved with his back almost against the wall, already trying to figure out what the best way was to move past the doorway without being seen. Then again, that kind of depended on whether someone would even be in that room. For now, he made the conscious decision to try to stop thinking about it. It wasn’t going to help him any further to already go through all of the doom scenarios before he even knew what was and wasn’t there.
Breathe in, breathe out, Jev, you got this. Just another hurdle before freedom.
He listened intently as he came closer, but no sounds came out of the room. Just the sound of his breathing, of his heartbeat. He would almost swear he could hear the spiders on the walls moving around, but he knew that that was impossible. Instead, he attributed it to the blood rushing in his ears. It both made him feel very relieved and very, very suspicious.
At long last, he reached the door, and after a few seconds of hyping himself up he dared to look around it.
Almost immediately he pulled his head back out of sight. There, in the middle of a frankly gigantic spiders web, he saw a shape he probably would never be able to completely forget. More body and limbs than they should have, covered in green carapace, expertly moving around a few threads here and there as though they were making their bed after just waking up. The only good thing was the fact that their back had been turned towards him, meaning they probably hadn’t spotted him.
Yet.
The question wasn’t if they were going to turn around, but when. The same went for going outside. Jevin was running out of time each second he stood there, waiting and thinking about what to do now.
Another glance around the doorway revealed they were still busy, and Jevin knew it was now or never. With a few quick and – hopefully – silent paces he went past the hurdle, and his eyes already found the next one: The staircase upwards. At the very least he now knew he was not going to encounter Arachne or Not Grian on his way out anymore, which was a good thing. Two less things to worry about.
He kept up the pace as he went up the staircase, and he found himself in some sort of wide entrance hall. Where the lower levels had been hewn from rough stone, the walls on this level had more of a pattern to them, like pieces meticulously stacked together to form a wall. It was not quite cobblestone, but not quite masonry either, somewhere between the two. Overhead were actual beams of dark wood holding up a roof, and in front of him were doors. There weren’t any windows here either, but the same could be said for spiders and cobwebs. Instead, there were draperies in black, with green cobwebs and spiders embroidered in there, and dark green carpet lead from the doors to the stairs down.
Jevin looked over his shoulder, and then moved on ahead. The doors opened without all too much hassle, he didn’t hear an alarm or anything, and it wasn’t locked in the slightest. Was it hubris? Maybe. Did it help him? Right there and then, yes, yes it did.
Still, the landscape outside made his stomach drop a little. The sky was so black it seemed purple, and instead of dirt underneath his feet, he found the familiar texture of endstone. As far as he could look, Jevin saw islands small and large dot the Void, and he suddenly realised where he was. At the same time, he realised how difficult if not impossible it was going to be to get out of there. He had no elytra and no rockets, which was the easiest way of navigating the End. He didn’t have material to bridge across from island to island, and even then, that could well deplete before he found the main End island.
Feeling his breathing shift to higher in his chest, he very gently closed the door behind him, so it wouldn’t make a sound.
Think, Jev. There has to be a way out of here. We know they have been to the bunker, as well as other places in the Overworld, there has to be a semi-easy way to get out of here and over there. I don’t quite see that spider donning an elytra.
His eyes scanned around as he turned to look around the building. There had to be something hidden between the dark pillars surrounding it, holding up the roof like in an ancient temple. From where he stood, he didn’t quite see anything out of the ordinary, though. Or rather, nothing more out of the ordinary than the building already was.
The next step was then to go and actually walk around the building. At first glance, it was just more pillars, more walls, more roof, but when he got to the back, the pattern shifted. Instead of a pillar every few meters, the back seemed barely supported at all. In their place hung a shimmering green sheen, framed with the same dark stone the rest of the building was made of.
Frankly, the question was not whether it was a portal, but where it would lead. It didn’t quite look like a standard End portal, and it also didn’t quite look like a Nether portal, not even like an End gateway, but still, he was sure of it. And no matter how long he would stand there, just idly thinking about where he would end up if he would go through, he knew he would never know for sure until he went through. And frankly, he doubted it could be much worse than the place he had just come from.
Jevin took a few steps back, took one last deep breath before running straight into it.
As with the other portals, a feeling of nausea came over him as the green swirls filled his vision, and a second later he was gone.
Notes:
It's been a while, y'all! I've frankly just been busy with all kinds of things, but all that is grinding to a halt now my country is basically quarantined.
So uh... I guess I'll be updating a few times more in the next few weeks.Also, yay 90k words!
Chapter 53: Arc 2 - 5
Summary:
Time ticks on. Morning rituals without mornings. Chaos with good intentions.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Time ticked on and on and on, imperceivably fast or slow. Matter swirled, over and through each other, yet separated in colours. Purple and green hadn’t crossed again since the first time, and the figure doubted they ever would again. Then again, they had also thought no other colours would exist in there, up until… They had no idea how long ago things had started changing. Frankly, it could be anywhere between a few seconds and a few years.
Logically, green and purple would cross again eventually, given that time was endless. At some point everything would once again be aligned to make it happen. They’d be ready for it then. They’d find out what it was, they simply had to, if only because whatever was shown in that crossing space had seemed more real than anything they had seen in this place so far.
And so the figure waited and watched, observing as they had been doing for so long. Maybe, just maybe, that crossing of green and purple could be their ticket out of there.
They sat in their webbing, casually slurping up their breakfast. Today it seemed like it was… spicy. Creeper, then, had to be. The texture wasn’t fluffy enough to be a ghast, and it was not hot enough to be a blaze. Besides, they barely ever had Nether inhabitants to eat, they were rather difficult to catch due to the fire that would simply burn down the webs should those be in their way. All in all, a rare treat.
For now, though, creeper had to do. They slurped the liquidised meat from the silken cocoon, then discarded the last few remains. One of the spiders would clean it up, or one of the servants.
Speaking of servants, one still hadn’t come back. Simply delivering a message should not take this long. When he returned, they would have to... discipline him. Again. They would not stand disobedience, and he should know that already. Really, if anything, they’d think he wouldn’t even try after the last time.
Hmmm…. We’ll see when he gets back. In the meanwhile, I still have another servant to do my bidding.
They got up from their web, and skittered out through the door. First things first, they had some little flies to check in on, and a promise to make true. One little fly to teach what happened to those which defied them. They were looking forward to it, if truth be told. If anything, they were hoping to break that little fly, break him and mark him. They only needed to get him to accept it, and well, if he didn’t…. They’d just rip him further and further apart until he gave in. And if he died, they’d just drag that little fly back to his cell and start over, again and again and again.
W ith a smirk on their face and a certain twinkle in their eyes, they moved through the hallways, looking around as they did. They came across Sally when moving past the temple, diligently cleaning the statue inside of it. Except for a small glance in his direction, however, they didn’t acknowledge his presence, and why would they? He was just a mere servant.
Down the stairs they went, into the lower part of their lair, where the little flies were kept. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary there. They could hear soft whispers as well as crying coming from one of the doorways, and just whispers from yet another. The other rooms had only silence coming from them, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Their attention went to one of the silent doorways, where they knew the blue fly was kept.
Him first. The others next. Maybe his screams will make the others more… Willing.
Arachne cracked their knuckles, then moved further. Their smirk had only grown wider, into a grin, and that dangerous twinkle in their eyes was now mixed with anticipation. They easily moved through the fake wall, only to stop halfway through.
What they saw in the room wasn’t what they expected, not at all. There was no sign at all of their captive, just the chain laying there, on the higher part of the floor. At first they thought that maybe, just maybe, the little fly was hiding behind the edge, but seeing the collar without something in it laying on the floor just meters away… It shattered that thought, or maybe even that hope. If it was empty, there was no reason for him to stay here.
It meant he had escaped.
Slowly, ever so slowly, they balled their hands into fists, their claws pressing into the soft flesh of their palm.
This won’t do. He knows things he shouldn’t. I cannot accept this. I will have to speed up my plans.
Calm, ice-cold fury radiated from Arachne as they turned around. Things needed to be put in motion, and they needed to be put in motion fast.
And the other inhabitants of the web were going to pay for it.
Not too long after sunrise, she found herself in the kitchen once more. Much to her surprise, it hadn’t been in the same half-exploded state it had been in the evening before. If anything, it was cleaner than before her and Cleo had baked the cake. Stress frowned. She had honestly been planning to go and properly clean when she woke up, and now that plan was thrown out of the window.
“Well then, more backing to be done I guess~!” She chuckled before going over to the fridge to pull out some ingredients, then raiding the pantry once more. Flour, milk, eggs, a bit of salt, some butter, some sugar… Actually, more butter, and some syrup too. That should do. Oh, and baking powder!
The ice queen took out a large mixing bowl, a sieve and a few cups and spoons, as well as a whisk, setting it all out on the table. She knew the recipe by heart, simply from the amount of times she had made it so far, but right now she was going to have to multiply everything by a bunch
Let’s see… Fourteen people, the recipe usually serves four… Mmmm…. Probably best to round that up, some of them are big eaters. Sixteen? Would sixteen be enough? There’s quite a few big eaters, though. You know what? Let’s just go for twenty. Which means… Multiply everything by five.
Happy with her conclusion, she went and started measuring things out. Four and three quarters cup of flour, five teaspoons of baking powder, two and a half teaspoons of salt, ten tablespoons of sugar… Very diligently and precisely measured before she dumped it all into the sieve, causing a white cloud to rise up. Stress giggled as she coughed, just knowing she could have avoided this. Nevertheless, she went and sieved all of the ingredients into her bowl, tapping the side of the sieve rhythmically. While there wasn’t really any clumps in it, she had found it still worked wonders in making the eventual dough a lot fluffier, and thus, the end product as well.
As she finished this step, she put the bowl to the side, picking up the milk and the eggs. Two and three quarters cup of milk went into another bowl, as did five eggs in rapid succession. The scales she tossed into the hearth for now, those would no doubt burn away the next time someone lit it. Stress was just about to start whisking away at the milk-egg mixture, when she realised she was still missing an ingredient here.
That stupid melted butter. I always forget it!
Grumbling ever so slightly, she grabbed the butter, then stomped off towards the cabinets to grab a skillet. She needed that one later anyway, it didn’t even mean having to do extra dishes. With a sigh she scooped in ten tablespoons of the butter, then turned on the heat. Melting all the butter didn’t even take a minute, but it was still almost a minute too long for her taste. Especially since the recipe called for cooled melted butter, but she had a trick for that up her sleeve. With the furnace turned off, she lifted the pan off of it. Then she gently held her hand underneath it, just not touching, and letting some icy cold radiate from her hand. Within seconds, the butter was cold.
“Peeerfect, there we go!” She was smiling once more as she dumped the butter into the milk, whisking it all together. Should she have whisked the eggs and the milk before adding the butter too? Yep, but it was too late to change anything about that now. Besides, she liked living life on the edge while she was cooking.
Not during baking, that was a very bad idea, but during cooking… it was all fine. And making pancakes technically counted as cooking anyway, didn’t they?
She shrugged, putting both the sieve and the whisk aside to dump the liquids in with the solids. Stress then grabbed a fork, stirring gently at first to not cause a second white cloud, but then started beating the batter faster and faster. She was not about to let any clumps remain in it, that just wouldn’t do. It didn’t even matter that some of it splashed out, onto her face and shirt, and onto the table, and onto the floor, and onto basically everything within a meter of the bowl. It was fine. This is also why she was cooking with a margin.
When the ice queen was finally satisfied with the smoothness of the batter, she put it to the side for a bit, both to clean up a little (there was flour and drops of batter everywhere) and to go and grab some more skillets. No way she was going to do this in just one of them, that would take ages.
Once again, she turned up the heat on the furnace as she sang a tune to herself, somehow managing to position three skillets on it. Was it built for that? Probably not. Did it work? That remained to be seen. For now it wasn’t all falling down at the very least, and that counted as a win in her book.
Tossing more butter into the skillets, she went and retrieved the bowl of batter as well as a ladle. The butter melted a tad unevenly, but that was fine. As it did, she ladled in some batter, and then a scoop more, creating a second pancake in the same pan with some precision movements. The fact that that just worked made her giddy, and she was all too motivated to do the same for the other two skillets.
With the six pancakes baking, she went hunting for a spatula. It was one of those things she always forgot to prepare, but generally she knew she had enough time to grab one before anything burnt too badly. The bad thing was that this wasn’t the kitchen of her ice castle, where she would even be able to command a villager or two around to retrieve it for her if necessary. This was a kitchen she barely knew. And so, Stress resorted to the easiest method of finding things she knew: Just pulling open drawers until she found it.
Frankly, it was almost as though TFC had a system behind this all, because the spatulas were located in the first drawer next to the furnace. A very useful location.
“Yes! Oooh, this is gonna be sooooo good~!” Stress danced around with the spatula, until she remembered she was supposed to be keeping an eye on the pancakes, which had started to bubble a bit on the top. It was her queue to go ahead and flip them over, revealing a golden brown bottom.
“Perfect!” Next step was simply waiting for the other side to be nice and golden as well, which luckily didn’t take too long. When they were done, she carefully stacked the pancakes on a large plate, knowing full well that some other way of putting them on there would be better in the long run. This was just the most fun and convenient for right now.
And then it was time to just go and bake more until the batter ran out. Turns out, with pancake batter for twenty people, it still took quite a while to bake them all, even if she had three skillets to use. Nevertheless, she kept on baking, humming and singing as she went.
It didn’t at all take long for the first of the Hermits to stick his head around the door to come and snatch a few pancakes, and Stress just let Xisuma do his thing. Admin privileges, she’d call that. Besides, in her opinion, this was going to be first come, first serve, as long as they left at least a few for the cook.
Sadly, she didn’t get to see the admin eat them because of his helmet situation, but it was fine. There were still many others that would come around to pick some up.
Notes:
Two chapters in a week? Really? Yes! I felt like it.
Also, the recipe Stress uses is actually legit. The chapter turned out slightly longer because I wanted to properly describe the recipe.
Chapter 54: Arc 2 - 6
Summary:
A move, made. A man, unnerved. A past, haunting.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
His beard had only barely cushioned his cheek from the rigidity of his keyboard. It had left its indents, a neat pattern of straight lines and angles forming a grid in his skin.
Apparently, he had fallen asleep somewhere during the night, even though he thought he had drunk enough coffee to stay awake for a few days. Either his calculations had been wrong or his body had just decided that it would take a nap whether he wanted to or not. And frankly, maybe it was in fact for the better to sleep every now and then.
Maybe it was a little bit less for the better to do that when he was the only one keeping watch over the video feeds. Had the spider come around in the few minutes – hours? - that had passed by, he wouldn’t have known. Cub was tempted to facedesk a few times, but ultimately decided that it wouldn’t be of help in the slightest.
With a sigh he rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes. Then he went over the screens with a sweeping gaze, to very quickly check how things were going everywhere. The island seemed calm, with a sparse zombie or skeleton burning up in the sun or hiding under a tree, and an even sparser amount of creepers and endermen hanging around. At the same time, there were spiders, and quite some of them. Some of the arches of False’s aqueducts were filled in with the white haze of cobwebs, while the eight-legged bastards were basically all over Tortuga. There was signs of their presence in most places, at the very least to some extent. Both Grian’s and Mumbo’s base seemed to have mostly been spared, as had most of the other smaller islands or floating buildings around.
That same could not be said for ConCorp, his beautiful ConCorp. At first it was only the amount of cobwebs between the trees and the fences and the silos and the buildings that stood out to him. With the amount of time spent there, and the amount of drone footage he had seen from the place, he knew the place inside out, including all of the little details. As he looked longer, though, it wasn’t something that was there that previously wasn’t that made his stomach drop. It was the lack of something.
Movement.
The streets that were usually so full of villagers, especially around this time of the morning, were completely barren. There was no sign of any of them, not on the docks, not on the stands, not even on the little town square. Were they still asleep?
A frown appeared on his face as he started typing, swapping some of the screens over to different views, different cameras. The library. Empty. The forging areas. Empty. The apartments. Empty. The cartographer’s tower. Emp- no wait, go back one.
What he had first seen as empty was not in fact empty at all. Sure, there were no iron golems around, but… Something in the room was different. It was the beds, where neatly wrapped shapes laid completely still. Had there not been blankets and pillows visibly poking out from underneath them, the shapes could have been simply freshly washed bedding, waiting to be properly put on.
Cub knew that even that was a stretch of his imagination. It wasn’t like he could just see the boots and shoes still standing empty next to the beds. It wasn’t like he could see hats hanging from the bedposts, or aprons or belts carefully laid out on bedside tables. Nothing one of the villagers would ever voluntarily leave behind.
And it also wasn’t like if he looked well enough, he could still see the vague contours of bodies wrapped up in all of that spider silk. The capitalist felt his stomach turn, acid burning its way up until he could taste it’s sour taste in his mouth. He felt like he was going to retch, and he held a hand in front of his lips to keep it all in, to swallow it back down. Cub averted his eyes, not wanting to see the leftovers of the massacre that had taken place.
I didn’t think about the villagers… If us Hermits aren’t even safe, why didn’t I realise the villagers were even more in danger? I should’ve at the very least upped security over at ConCorp, ‘cause right now… It’s like I didn’t even try.
He swallowed hard, forcing down the stomach acid and the thoughts once more. Then, shakily breathing in and out, his eyes found the keyboard, and he wasted no time typing in the commands needed to switch the view to something else. Anything else.
When he finally looked up, he was faced with the sea, cerulean and white waves gently washing over the surface. Seagulls soared through the azure sky, diving down to the water every now and then, only to raise up once more with silvery fish clasped in their claws. Though the drones didn’t catch sound, it didn’t take much to image the sounds the landscape would make. A calm, rhythmic crashing interspersed with the mewing of the gulls.
His breathing slowed down until it was more or less synchronised with the waves. Slowly, his heartbeat became less pronounced, less high in his throat. Cub tried to relax a little bit, knowing that the guilt-thinking wasn’t going to get his villagers back, knowing that getting angry at himself or the world didn’t solve anything. Especially not if getting angry meant another broken screen.
Instead, he put the event on the ever-growing list of reasons he was going to take down their enemy. Especially with the raid coming up, that list was going to be an excellent motivator.
Cub gave himself a few more minutes to calm down, before turning back to the screens, his eyes quickly scanning over them before switching the view to the next. He briefly wondered about whether or not he should be noting down the locations of the spiders the drones could see, but seeing the speed with which they skittered around, he knew already that it wouldn’t really be of help. If only the drones had an automatic crossbow on them or something… But they hadn’t. With a sigh he clicked through to the next feed, having to do a double take at the feed’s name before he understood what he saw. The entire screen was covered in a twirling grey and black, save for the slightest hint of orange poking through every now and then.
Hmm… Grey and orange? What would that be? I- Oh! Of course, this drone should be near the mountains still. It’s fire and smoke. I should move it out of there, so that stuff doesn’t mess with the circuitry. Same goes for the other drones in the area.
He started tapping out a few commands, this time to adjust the paths of the flying contraptions. They were currently one of their only ways of knowing what was going on, and losing just one of them already meant having to either shrink the area of coverage or to have less frequent updates on everything, neither of which was preferable. Still, despite the smoke, he expertly piloted the drones out of there, moving them to safety, either very close to the water or high up in the air.
From the birds eye view that some of the drones now had it became clear how far the fire had spread. The mountains were still burning, and it had seemingly spread northwards, to the plains and forest that were there. The south seemed to have been spared, the line of fire abruptly being cut off by a line of blue that kept it in check. The same would have happened everywhere Tango and Jevin had managed to reach before-
Cub shook his head, not really wanting to think about it. It did mean that most of the area would be in the clear and safe, except for the taiga between the swamp and where the line of water ended. The plains and the forest were of lower priority than that taiga at that point, however, and were an acceptable loss. If the taiga burnt, so would quite a bit of the rest of that continent. At the very least the wind hadn’t changed directions, which meant the fire spread was slow. It bought them some time to figure out the next strategy, and maybe even to first do the raid, and to deal with it later.
Hmmm… Choices, choices… I’d better ask X what he thinks is best, cause both have their advantages and disadvantages.
He once again let his eyes move across the screens, doing one last check of the area around the Halloween district and Jevin’s fidgetspinner b efore whipping out his communicator in order to message the admin.
<cubfan135> X, you got a minute?
<cubfan135> I got a few things to show you
<xisumavoid> Sure :-)
<xisumavoid> Where are you? Still the video room?
<cubfan135> Yep
<xisumavoid> Alright, on my way.
Cub kicked back in his chair, eyes once more fixated on the screens, looking out for something, anything out of the ordinary. Or more out of the ordinary than things were these days, it was hard to say. Cub periodically switched the views to those provided by the other drones, to not just keep an eye on the fire and the main island, but also the sea and the territories just beyond it.
It wasn’t too exciting, and actually rather relaxing. Trees swayed slightly in the wind, the sun burnt down on the deserts, and cows, chickens, sheep, pigs, and horses wandered over the various grassy planes. Every now and then, he caught a dolphin on camera, or even the occasional villager, courtesy of the drones surveying the strip of land directly around the ocean. In some villages they waved at the drone as it passed by, in three of the others the villagers merely stopped what they were doing and glared upwards. Their green eyes seemed to almost pierce through him, unnerving Cub, and he wasn’t too sure if that was because of what he had seen at ConCorp, or because they were acting a lot less friendly than villagers normally were. Or it could just be him imagining things, simply caused by the sight of green eyes, something villagers had anyway.
Nothing wrong there. They just… They probably didn’t sleep well, or just got woken up by the noise of the drones. Nothing to worry about.
Still, despite it being nothing to worry about, he would still tell X isuma about it once he arrived. Villagers were a bit strange sometimes, but in these days one could never be too careful. It was better to make note of something that seemed strange, but turned out to have a perfectly normal explanation, than to not report it and have it actually be connected to something abnormal or bad.
C ub shook his head, then moved on to the next view. There was still more things that needed surveillance, not just this one village with the weird-acting villagers in them. Forests, plains, hills… They were more of the semi-regular stuff, with some burning undead, teleporting endermen, and large spiders just chilling in the nooks and crannies of the landscape. Nothing of note, really, and nothing worth telling anyone in charge.
S peaking about X isuma , the door opened, and the admin came walking in, a plate of pancakes in his hand. He seemed a lot more awake than Cub felt, but then again, the capitalist had no idea how long the admin had been awake for already. Probably since dawn, to make most of the day.
“Morning, Cub. Thought I’d get you some of these before they’re all gone,” the admin said, a smile half hidden behind his visor. He put the plate on the table next to Cub. “Stress made them.” He pulled up a chair to sit next to the other man, eyes already switching between the screens and Cub, curious about what he was called here for.
“Fantastic! Thanks, X!” He all too happily pulled the plate closer, eyeing the syrup-covered goodness. It smelt really good, at the very least, and though he really wanted to know whether that smell was representative of the taste, he decided against it. The pancakes could wait until after the briefing, especially knowing what one of the parts was going to have to be.
“Alright, so. I called you here for two reasons, that have become three reasons already. First off, I think I’ll show you something that happened overnight.” Cub’s fingers started racing over the keyboard to pull up a few feeds from the main island, showing some of the bases the others had built.
“That’s a lot of spiders,” was Xisuma’s calm conclusion. Or, at the very least, his façade was calm. The capitalist could hear icy hate seeping through the words, but the admin hid it well.
“They sure are, but this ain’t everything. This… is still tame compared to what they did to other places.” There was a hint of a quiver in his voice as a shiver went down his spine, just thinking about ConCorp.
Xisuma squinted, first at the screens, then at Cub.
“You call basically wrapping a building in cobwebs tame?”
“I mean, we’ve had pranks that covered entire bases in buttons, this is still on the tame scale.” As he spoke, the capitalist was once more typing on his keyboard, calling forth the next set of views, this time from the ConCorp cameras.
Outside first. I’ll ease him in, then I’ll show him.
“You’ve been at ConCorp, right?” He leaned back in his chair a little to look at Xisuma.
“Yeah, I have. I see it got cobwebbed too?”
“It has. If only that was the real problem here.” Cub sighed, attracting the admin’s attention. “It’s uh… It’s a little bit worse than that. Quite a bit.”
Xisuma raised an eyebrow, a silent sign to keep talking.
“Look closely. What do you miss in this area?” He pointed at one of the larger screens, depicting the now deserted town part of the area. At the motion, Xisuma’s eyes wandered to the screen, squinted in concentration.
“Hmmm… It looks familiar, but I’m not entirely sure what’s wrong. I wanted to say lighting, but I know you used end rods and hidden sea lanterns, so I don’t think that’s it. If I’m quite honest, it looks about right to me.” His hand rubbed over the lower part of his helmet as he thought, and Cub gave him a few seconds more before answering.
“The villagers, X. This area is usually bustling with life.”
“Right! Hmm. So, where are they, then? Blocked in their sleeping quarters? Or- something bad happened to them, didn’t it?” His voice dropped in volume near the end as he realised what Cub was trying to say.
“It did.” Without saying much more, he switched the view to that of the apartments, a new angle on every screen. What he hadn’t noticed before, on his first round of going through the feeds, was the fact that the room where the armourers and toolsmiths slept, the neatly packaged cocoons weren’t on the beds at all. Here, they were on various places on the ground, with swords and axes tossed to the sides in multiple places. These villagers had put up a fight, or had tried to do so, at the very least.
Next to him, Xisuma’s squint had changed as his eyebrows knitted together, his hands balling to fists. The admin could do much, but casual resurrection wasn’t one of those things. The anger and frustration were visible in his eyes, as he glanced over the screens, forcing himself to take in the details.
“Did this happen in other places with villager trading halls? Or just here?” Xisuma spoke with his teeth clenched shut, without moving his eyes away from where they were.
“I didn’t check that, I’m sorry. I just… couldn’t. Didn’t want to. If I’m honest, seeing this for the first time almost made me throw up.” He looked away, dodging the possibility of eye contact with the admin, however good friends they were.
“Why the f-” Xisuma started, before Cub heard him breathe out and in again. “Excuse me, that was uncalled for. For the record, I’m not mad at you in the slightest, it’s just… This whole situation makes me so damned furious, I was just… Is it bad to say I was just hoping for some good news, for once?”
The capitalist looked up and nodded once.
“Yeah, I… I get it, X. If it’s good news, though, I have at least a little bit of that. You see, the villages along the shore, over the sea, all seem to be-”
An alarm sounded through the room as a red alert box, and then another, popped up on all of the screens, effectively blocking the view on concorp.
{ALERT} Drone 6d756d626f sustained critical damage. Shutdown imminent.
{ALERT} Connection with drone 6d756d626f lost.
It caught Cub’s attention, and he frantically started typing, cursing under his breath.
“This is wrong. Something is wrong.”
“What is-”
“Sssh, I need to focus.”
Xisuma shut up, now only watching the screens as the boxes disappeared, and Cub managed to pull up the last few seconds of footage the drone had sent out. It was a desert landscape, the end of a gravel path still visible on one of the edges of the screen. Cub felt his stomach dropping as he realised where it was. The footage suddenly shook roughly as something seemed to hit the drone. Then it turned to the ground, spiraling down fast, showing glimpses of villagers, bows and axes and swords in their hands as they stormed closer to the drone. The drone crash-landed, the sand covering the camera, and a few seconds later the black frames turned to static with a blinking ‘Connection lost’ sign across it.
“What happened there? That-”
“This was actually the third thing I wanted to show you. I think the villagers have changed. Not all of them, just… some. They were acting strange when I flew the drone over earlier, I-”
Another alarm sounded, and again the alert boxes popped up.
{ALERT} Drone 6675636b6564 sustained critical damage. Shutdown imminent.
{ALERT} Connection with drone 6675636b6564 lost.
“Even more?!” Cub was not at all happy with this development, and he immediately started tracking this drone too. At the same time he had an inkling as to what had happened here, too, and one of which two villages had caused it. Turns out he didn’t even need to make that guess, as more alerts popped up before he had resolved the previous ones.
{ALERT} Drone 757020626164 sustained critical damage. Shutdown imminent.
{ALERT} Connection with drone 757020626164 lost.
“Yep. And that last one as well. Great. Fantastic.”
Cub put his elbow on the table, rubbing over his face with his hand. At the very least he had seen only three villages where the villagers were acting strangely, and it wouldn’t be difficult to track them down on the map as he had the flight paths.
“This is strange indeed. Hmm. Worrying as well, because this is an unprecedented shift in behaviour. Almost as though-”
“Pebbles in the village wells,” Cub interrupted Xisuma, his tone flat. “Of course. Pebbles in the wells.”
“Wait, pebbles, what?” The admin looked confused, then his eyes widened.
A page from a book wrapped in green leather. A task, worded so simple, as though there was no hidden agenda behind it at all. Simple, but perhaps the slightest bit non sequitur. A task to throw pebbles in the wells of some villages of choice.
“Of course… Oh, Mumbo, what did you cause?”
Notes:
So uh. This chapter turned out a little bit longer and more tangential than planned. This always seems to happen when I write Cub, for some reason. So yeah. I hope you guys enjoy this double-length chapter cause honestly this was the first point where I could reasonably cut it off.
Chapter 55: Arc 2 - 7
Summary:
A house of smoke and glass. Otherworldly flight. Rude regrouping.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The sky above him was black when he opened his eyes. Fear gripped his heart at first, afraid of having returned to the place he had just fled from, but it didn’t take long for details to start seeping through.
For one, the floor he was on was soft, actually soft, instead of the hard slabs of the cell. Besides that, the sky actually had texture, in contrary to the neverending black that had been the roof in that other place. The black wasn’t really black either, more like… Dark grey, with a purply sheen over it. It all was accompanied by the penetrating smell of smoke. Not even the nice type, the one of summer evenings and campfires with friends, but one that carried nothing but death and destruction.
As Jevin calmed down, he slowly looked around, not really trusting it just yet. However, instead of anything spider-related, he only saw the familiar shape of his fidget spinner, the hallways filled with smoke. He breathed out and in slowly, only to devolve into a coughing mess as the smoke hit his lungs.
I have to get out of here, this can’t be healthy. Besides… I don’t really want to be alone a second longer. I just… I want to… I want to be safe, feel safe. Not here, I don’t feel safe here, alone. I gotta… I have to get back to the Hermits.
Without much further ado, he stood up from his bed. Jevin set the great amount of two steps before figuring out that the smoke was thicker as he got higher, and that crawling over the floor to his ender chest was probably better than going to walk there. Easily said, easily done. Luckily, it wasn’t that far, because his wrist wasn’t really enjoying this, but that was something he’d have to look at later, when he was back at the bunker.
Jevin stopped crawling in front of the chest, and went to sit on his knees so he could actually open up the thing and look inside. It was still in the same state he had left it in, with a bit of space where he had put his shulker boxes full of water, but more importantly, with the shulker full off spare gear. It wasn’t the best of the best, it was dented in some places, dull in others, but the armour still protected, the tools still dug and cut and chopped. Most importantly, the elytra would still carry him, and the boots would still cushion his landing. One by one he transferred the diamond tools to his inventory, after which he carefully picked out the best set of armour he could pick together, donning them instantly. Where the blue plate generally felt confining, forcing him to keep one and the same shape instead of shifting little bits whenever he wanted, right now that didn’t matter. Right now, the plates felt like protection, like something the spiders couldn’t tear through, something they couldn’t rip his slime away through.
He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, feeling ever so slightly safer.
Not safe enough though, so he got out a decent set of rockets, enough to cover the Overworld route from the fidget spinner to the bunker and back ten times over. Better safe than sorry. The next question was how he was going to go back. While the Nether would be faster, the Overworld didn’t carry the risk of being burnt alive by a variety of local wildlife. Then again, he doubted the Nether had spiders that would see him or ambush him on his way back. Honestly, the longer he didn’t have to see those creatures, the better.
Jevin didn’t quite realise he was shaking and clenching his fists until he tried slightly adjusting one of the straps of his elytra, to no avail. He just couldn’t manoeuvre the buckles and the little metal lips that prevented the various straps and belts from slipping away during flight.
When he noticed, Jevin actually took a moment to take a break, and to distract his thoughts away from spiders and the like.
Alright, happy thoughts. Nice things. Uh… Blue sky. Iron farms. Nice and big circles of glass. Cleaning up chestmonsters. Endbusting. Handing out diamond blocks to those that need them.
He breathed out with every thing he listed, breathing in once more in the pauses between. It was fine, it was all fine. He just needed to get back to the bunker. Jevin decided that the straps were fine as they were, and that maybe, just maybe, the Nether was the best way to get where he needed to be. The tunnels were in very good condition, especially those connecting the places closer to the central island, so they should mean virtually no harm as he passed through them.
An added benefit of the Nether was that he wouldn’t have to fly through the smoke of what basically was an uncontrolled wildfire, instead just having to go through the regular bits of sulphur and lava fumes in the air. Which was infinitely better. Okay, it wasn’t really that much better, but still, better.
And so, with his armour and elytra and rockets in the places where they should be, he went back to crawling, this time to go to his portal. Behind him, the enderchest fell closed with a thud and a vwoop, and somehow, especially the latter part unnerved him a little bit.
Probably has something to do with… Well, where that place was. But it’s fine, enderchests never hurt anyone. Never. It’s okay. It’s totally okay.
He crawled over the floor with determination, like a baby on a mission. The Nether portal was a little bit further away than his enderchest, but on the more positive side, it was also in the centre of his base, in the bit that dipped down into the ocean. It meant the smoke would also be less prevalent there, which was a good thing, because it meant he would probably be able to just stand up straight there without respiratory issues.
And indeed, as he reached the stairs going down, the smoke cleared. The smell still hung around, but that was something he could deal with, a simple shower – or a dunk in a nearby ocean or river – would solve that. Besides, he frankly wondered if people were gonna find it too much of an issue, considering the alternative would have been him not being there. Jevin shrugged and stopped the line of thought before it could go places he didn’t want it to go, before standing up from his crawling position at the bottom of the stairs, and powerwalking over to the portal. Between two blinks he remembered the portal in the End, the one he had escaped through, but the memory went away just as fast as it had come, urged to be gone by his will. He didn’t want to think about it, and so, he wouldn’t.
Without thinking a moment longer, he hopped into the portal, letting the nausea of displacement wash over him. The next moment, he found himself in a hallway, neatly decorated, a path of ice visible in a tunnel on the end of the one he was currently in. It was hot there, but not quite as hot as it would be near the seas of lava that stretched out in various places below. He’d only be here for a minute or two tops, so the heat wouldn’t dry out his slime too much. Still, once he got to the Overworld once more, he’d have to go and drink a few glasses of water, just to negate any damage done in here.
With a few running steps and a hop upwards he shot off a rocket, boosting himself forwards, off the ground. Hot air moved past him as he made a sharp turn at the end of the tunnel, finding himself in the main Eastern tunnel. With another rocket he gathered up enough speed to stay in the air well past the end of it, and Jevin manoeuvred through the large hole in the carpeted floor, heading down to the main part of the Nether hub. From there on, it was just gliding to the portal in the bunker, gliding and waving to the few drones he passed as he came flying down. No doubt someone of the tech team would have seen him by now, and while just a week earlier he would’ve felt a little paranoid or suspicious if random drones flew around the hub, right now they almost caused a feeling of relief to bloom. It meant his friends were watching out for him, for dangers to defend against.
Jevin didn’t even have to think about going through the portal, instead landing neatly in the middle of it. He would have loved to just fly through, going in in one dimension and coming out in the other, but there were a few issues with that. First, the portals generally needed a moment to make the connection to the other dimension, and secondly, if he were to fly in through the wrong side, he would probably end up flying against a wall and experiencing kinetic energy. Which in this case meant going back to-
He violently shook his head, stopping the train of thought dead in its tracks. He really, really didn’t want to go back there, and he really, really didn’t want to think about it right now. The chance to do that would undoubtedly come later, when the others would ask how he was here right now. At the very least, he hoped that they had noticed he’d been gone for… Well, judging by the fact that it had seemed to be day when he had woken up, at the very least half a day or so?
In any case, the nausea of displacement faded away, and he stepped out of the portal and into the bunker. And almost straight into a blade aimed at his heart. From behind it, he could see Tango bravely standing his ground, defensive over the rest of the hallway and the bunker behind it.
“You won’t fool me, you filthy imposter!”
Notes:
Short chapter for today, from now on they'll probably be a little bit longer cause I figured out I can barely keep my perspectives short enough to put multiple in one chapter and I think that's sad.
Chapter 56: Arc 2 - 8
Summary:
Child's play. Identity revealed. A song of hope.
Notes:
As a note, the third perspective ends with a few kinda depressive thought processes. Stop at "The landscaper blinked {...}", pick back up at "It's fine, it's all fine {...}".
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When Ren heard something approaching, Iskalls fingers were still tightly wrapped around his. Although the footsteps were slow, there were many, in a staccato rhythm that made the hairs at the back of his neck stand up straight. His eyes shot up, scanning over the walls, looking for whatever was coming to appear through the darkness.
“You hearing that, Iskall?” he asked, voice low and soft, not much more than a whisper.
“Uhuh. Let’s wake up Python.”
“Yep.” He felt how Iskall let go, before moving over to the platform the snake man was napping on, or at the very least, try to get as close as possible. His eyes danced further, scanning, glancing, and looking as the footsteps came closer and closer and closer.
“Python. Hey, Python, wake up!” Iskall hissed, eliciting a groan from Python, who shifted a little, then turned over so his back was towards the swede.
“Hrm… Five more minutesh...”
“Come on, dude, someone’s coming, you gotta wake up. Now.” The urgency in his voice now seemed to reach the other man, who rolled onto his back, turning his head towards the others, eyes blinking as he attempted tot get the sleep from them.
“Got it.” He rubbed his eyes, then sat up, just as the footsteps stopped. Ren briefly looked away from the walls to send a glance over to Iskall and Python. He had hope, and he knew the others had some too, but at the same time… He was quite sure it wasn’t the Hermits just about to come in. The steps had simply been too perfectly in sync for that, the hallway had simply been too quiet. The Hermits could do many things, but marching in rhythm or keeping their mouths shut during an infiltration weren’t part of that set.
As such, he wasn’t that surprised when the face of the spider popped through the wall, followed by the rest of them. Nevertheless, he moved backwards, away from them. It was a reaction he barely had any influence over, it was just something in their face and general stance that made him instinctively want to get away from them, even more so than before. Arachne moved slowly, until they were all the way inside, their eyes calmly gliding over each of the Endbusters, just… calculating.
Ren briefly caught their gaze and looked away, then realised he didn’t want to do that, and remade eye contact. Whatever they were going to do, he was going to spite them as they did so. Besides that, while he didn’t really want to look at them, he also didn’t dare look anywhere else. With a danger in the room, it just didn’t make sense to look away from said danger.
Then, they slowly raised a hand, the clawed end of their index finger pointing at Iskall.
“Eeny.”
Ren felt his stomach drop.
I don’t like where this is going one bit.
The hand shifted over to Python , and he was quite sure he could hear a whimper coming from Iskalls direction.
“Meeny.”
I REALLY don’t like this.
Ren shifted uncomfortably, not entirely sure on what to do. On the one hand, he really didn’t want to attract attention to himself, on the other side, he also really didn’t want any of the others to get hurt. As his thoughts shot through his head, the hand moved again, this time towards him, and no matter the brave and spiteful face he was trying to maintain, he felt his hands tremble, felt goosebumps appear on his skin.
“Miny.”
The strange thing was that he couldn’t even see the spidery bastard grin or in any other way convey joy in whatever sadistic game they were playing. Instead, they just seemed… Dead serious? It didn’t entire cover the vibe Ren got from them, though. There was something more. Something else, and it scared him a whole lot more than the things they had done until that point.
Once again, the hand moved, upwards this time, even slower than before. Time seemed to slow down as it reached the apex of its trajectory, and Ren felt his heartbeat in his throat. He glanced over at the others. Iskall had his eyes shut tight, probably having counted ahead, knowing that there was only one word left to be said, and that he was next in line. Python too was looking away, and Ren managed to catch his eyes, ever so briefly making eye contact, exchanging a look of mutual powerlessness.
And then the hand came down, hard and fast.
The claw was not on Iskall, though.
It was on Python.
“Moe.”
A lot of thoughts went through his head as he looked at the person opposite him. It was a mix of I don’t trust this and You can’t be here and This has to be a trap and a hopeful Could it be…? Nevertheless, no matter how hopeful he was, he didn’t drop his sword, not even an inch. This felt too easy. Too convenient. He had seen Jevin die not a day earlier, there was no way he could be here all alone.
And so… Well, the only logical reason Tango could think of as to why ‘Jevin’ was there, was if the same had happened to him as what happened to Biffa. Brainwashed, changed, no longer himself. An enemy agent in the guise of a friend. It didn’t even occur to him that Jevin might have escaped, or that he looked exactly as he always did, minus some strange colourations on his wrist.
“Wow, Tango, wait, it’s me!” The slime man raised his hands, away from where his sword hung from his hip. He seemingly was trying to show he had no ill intent at heart, unlike Biffa had had when he had arrived at the bunker. Still, it was suspicious. Almost as though he was trying to infiltrate or something.
But what if it really is Jev? I can’t just turn away or stab him, now can I?
Internally, he was very conflicted. On the one hand, he didn’t want to bring any of the other Hermits in danger by letting in one of the spider’s lackeys. On the other hand, he didn’t want to send Jevin away on the off chance that it really was him. Right now, it mostly resulted in him keeping the sword up.
“Are you now? Prove it.” Tango wasn’t entirely too sure about how he would know if any proof would be legitimate, especially taking into account that an imposter could well still have access to all of Jevin’s memories. So there was that. He saw a look on ‘Jevin’s’ face, one of being tired and scared and maybe a little bit desperate, almost like he would just start crying out of frustration any moment.
“Look, I just… How do you expect me to do that? You know I can’t, I-” ‘Jevin’ swallowed, trembling ever so slightly as he did so “- I don’t know, I really don’t know, please, please just believe me Tango! I don’t want to go back to that place, I don’t want to become mindless like Grian, I-” All of a sudden, he stopped talking, blinking as though he had a revelation. “Tango. My eyes aren’t glowing green.” His words were a tad shaky, but he straightened his back, making eye contact with the demon.
At the same time, Tango was processing his words, really wanting to give in to the pleas of a friend, and it broke his heart that he couldn’t just do so. As ‘Jevin’ mentioned his eyes, however, he too blinked, before actually also realising that Jevin’s eyes didn’t look the way Biffa’s had. The snaking green lines in the skin were missing as well. He lowered his sword to the floor to ease his last hint of doubt, but for the most part, he just wanted to facepalm.
Of course. How did I not notice that before?
“You got a lot of explaining to do, Jev,” he said, and the other man visibly relaxed. “Like the mindless Grian thing, you actually saw him? Is he- Well, of course he isn’t alright, what am I thinking, but… Are the others also there? How did you get out? How-”
“Can I just… Can I get a hug first?” I’ll tell you everything, just…” Jevin trailed off a little, and Tango realised just how broken he looked. And so he put away the sword, stepping forwards with his arms spread wide, inviting the slime man for a hug.
“Of course! C’mere, you.” It didn’t need to be said twice, and within a second Jevin had firmly wrapped his arms around him, shaking more than a little bit. Not entirely sure on what to do, Tango embraced him, holding tight but gently rubbing his back.
“Hey, you’re here now, you’re safe. I may not know what happened to you, but just know I won’t allow it to happen again, okay?”
In his arms, Jevin nodded weakly, and seconds later Tango felt how his shoulder became a little bit wet, then a little bit more so. The tears only stayed there for a moment before vaporising away from the demon’s admittedly hot skin, but that was fine. Even if they hadn’t, Tango didn’t mind in the slightest.
Wels had been trying to calm down Scar a little, to try and convince him that he wouldn’t let a transformation such as Biffa’s happen to him. It had seemed like it was going at the very least kind of okay-ish, and there was a lot less headgrabbing and mouthcovering from the landscaper’s side. That didn’t mean there wasn’t any, though. Still, Wels tried his best to talk Scar through it as best as he could, explaining why the thoughts or words were wrong or unlikely.
When a scream of agony as well as yells of protest broke through the relative silence, though, both of the men had vastly different reactions. Where Wels winced as he recognised the voices, Scar caught himself smiling, actually smiling. It only took a second, but it was enough to completely throw him off.
The knight could see the other man ball up as small as he could go, his hands pressed against his ears to block out the sound as best as he could. Even from a few blocks away, Wels could still see him shaking as he whispered the same thing over and over again.
“-make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop -”
And Wels couldn’t do much except trying to come closer and coming up short, until a thought struck him. He just needed to somehow drown out the sounds of agony that were coming from where the Endbusters had been locked up, and then maybe, just maybe, Scar would be alright. The plan was a little bit out there, but in theory, it could work.
“Hey buddy, listen to me for a second, okay? Just to me. Just to my voice. Can you do that?” Though his words were intended as soft and comforting, his actual voice was loud, hopefully loud enough to be heard. At first it didn’t seem like it though, but with some extra handwaving in the landscaper’s line of sight, he finally seemed to be paying attention. Scar nodded and even lifted his hand from his ear to actually be able to listen to Wels a little bit better. In turn, Wels sat up a little bit straighter and breathed in deep.
Here goes nothing .
“Do you hear the people sing? Singing a song of angry men.”
He saw Scar breathe out slowly, letting go of a tiny bit of the tension that had sneaked into his shoulders.
“It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again.”
His hand fell down slowly, finding a place tucked away in the landscaper’s armpit.
“When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of-”
A scream, this time clearly Python, pierced through, loud, so much louder than he could sing, but that didn’t stop him. Instead, he sang on as Scar clasped his ears once more, his eyes desperately pleading as his mouth pulled back into a grotesque caricature of a grin.
“-THE DRUMS, THERE IS A LIFE ABOUT TO START WHEN-”
Python screamed again, this time actually forming what sounded like words, too muffled to be understood. He was seemingly backed up by the other two, as two more voices briefly piped up, yelling even more incomprehensible words.
“-TOMORROW COMES! WILL YOU JOIN IN OUR CRUSADE? WHO WILL BE STRONG AND STAND WITH ME?”
Wels could see Scar’s shoulders shock once as he closed his eyes shut, trying to contain something . No, this wasn’t going as planned, but at the very least his singing didn’t make the situation worse.
“SOMEWHERE BEYOND THE BARRICADE, IS THERE A WORLD YOU WANT TO SEE?”
The screams worked their way to a crescendo of sorts, being followed by… Nothing, really. Nothing loud enough to hear from where he was. Nevertheless, Wels didn’t take that as a cue to stop singing. Instead, he just dropped in volume a bit, especially because of the text he was singing. It was a song about hope, after all, it didn’t feel right to cut it off short.
“Then join in the fight, that will give you the right to be free...”
“Fighting it feels so… so pointless, tough...” Scar spoke up just as Wels took a breath to get back to the chorus.
“It isn’t. Because if you lay your hope down next to you, if you stop fighting, you’re gonna lose yourself. And Scar? You really, really don’t want that.” Wels swallowed without realising it, knowing that that was the path Grian had ended up on.
The path I pushed him towards… didn’t I?
“You have to keep hope Scar, the Hermits are going to be here any moment to break us out. Any moment now.”
“Do you really think so?”
The words weren’t filled with hope, as he might have wanted. Instead, Scar sounded… disdainful, almost. As though the entire concept of being saved was ridiculous.
“Yes, yes I do. Because I know my friends. They simply won’t sit by and let this injustice happen. I know they won’t.” I hope they won’t, he then added in his head. Scar simply stared at him. Had there been torches in the room, Wels could’ve told himself that his eyes were flickering between their normal mossy green and a more saturated, bright green was merely a trick of the light. Right now, though…
“Keep fighting, Scar. I believe in you, you can push through this. I can’t imagine how hard it is, but you have to keep fighting, don’t give in to this, please, please don’t give in. You got this.”
The landscaper blinked, then shook his head, clear strain on his face as he looked at the knight.
“It’s so hard, Wels… It’s just… My thoughts keep saying things and they don’t feel like my thoughts but at the same time they do and- And… and they feel like they have a point. I know they haven’t, I know, I know, but when your own head is telling you something is true or that people don’t care or that hoping for something is pointless, it gets really, really hard to go against it, no matter how correct your line of reason is.”
Scar looked so damn breakable- no, wait, broken - in that very moment, that Wels didn’t want to do anything else but hold him and help him put himself back together. He wanted to help, in whatever way he could. And so he found himself shifting ever so slightly closer, however much the chain would allow, stretching out his hands to grab Scar and to pull him in for a hug. At the very least he didn’t protest it, which was something, and it didn’t take long for the landscaper to cling on to the knight like a lifeline.
“It’s fine, it’s all fine. I’m here for you. I won’t let you slip away, you hear me? I won’t, that’s a promise.”
Not too far away, Python’s screams picked back up, and though Scar immediately covered his ears, Wels started humming the rest of the little song he had been singing.
Best not to lose hope himself either.
Notes:
Well, I did it. 100k words. Over that, even, thanks to an unplanned tangent at the end.
Also, I'm totally back on my bullshit of making people emotional with les mis songs.
Chapter 57: Arc 2 - 9
Summary:
Dreams fade. Memories of yesterday. Friendship tested.
Notes:
TW for gore and torture in the second perspective. Skip the beginning and head over to the "I can’t I can’t I can't [...]" in italics if you want to dodge that.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
She awakened clutching her pillow tightly, soft snores still filling the room. Her legs were tangled in blankets that were in the process of escaping her bed, and the last hazy shards of dreams were on their way out. Just the sticky film of sweat and a vague feeling of relief pointed out that her rest had been filled with nightmares she could now barely even remember. It had been green eyes, glints of blue, and crimson streams, interspersed with a lot of black, but that was about all False still knew.
Not that she was complaining about it. In fact, she was glad the exact details eluded her. She blinked slowly as she laid there, eyes scanning through the room to locate the source of the snoring. It didn’t take long for her to find the mop of blond hair on the table, as well as the person connected to it.
Zedaph? Why is he…?
False rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up stretching. Her neck was stiff and sore, both from the events of the day before, the stress, and the lack of pillow she seemed to have spent her night with, but she was reasonably sure one of the Hermits would be able to sort that out. Word was that both Joe and Stress were good choices to ask such a thing, especially if she could manage to get the poet to ramble on. Or at least, that’s what Cleo had told her, and there was no reason to not believe her on that. After all, her and Joe hung out quite a lot, she would know.
Yeah, I’ll ask him later.
She got up and smoothe out the wrinkles in her clothes a little before going to check up on Zed. About halfway through, though, she stopped in her tracks. Her head cocked to the side as she observed him, before turning back to grab her pillow.
The poor guy really used the table as a pillow all night, didn’t he? Did he stay here for me? Aww, thanks Zedaph!
Her plan changed from just checking up on him to somehow getting the pillow under his head, it was the least she could do. And so she sneaked closer, careful not to wake him. The question now was how she could do the pillow switcheroo without waking him up. Maybe by very gently pulling his shoulders backwards and upwards, so his head would lift from the surface a little?
I mean, that could work. And I don’t have a better idea, soooo… I might as well try it.
False inched closer, putting the pillow on the table in front of him before gently laying her hands on his shoulders. As she did, he stirred slightly and she froze, but after waiting for a tense few seconds he just continued snoring. A sigh of relief rolled over her lips. Then the fighter started pulling him up.
Only now, Zed did move, turning to face her as he whipped his hands to be in between them. It almost looked like a proper hand to hand combat form, except that it totally didn’t. Nevertheless, she still flinched backwards, letting go of his shoulders and finding herself grabbing for her sword, that no longer hung from her hip.
“Hmm...? Wh-HYA! You can’t sneak up on me, you spidery… Oh, sorry False! Didn’t realise it was you. Ahem. Good morning. It is morning, right?” Zed yawned, then looked around. “You okay over there?”
Only half of his words seemed to actually reach her ears, and just under half of that actually got translated from noises in the air into actual information. She felt her breath climb higher in her chest, felt her heartbeat rise as she closed her eyes, trying to take a deep breath.
It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s just Zed. Zed wouldn’t hurt me, he’s a friend, he wouldn’t-
“False?” The voice was careful and caring, and it broke through the stream of thoughts. “You’re really pale, are you sure you’re alright?” In response, she merely shook her head, not entirely sure if she’d manage to get out words if she tried. She did however crack open her eyes to see Zed standing there, gently pulling the chair back and gesturing for her to go and sit.
“Alright, let’s have a seat then. We wouldn’t want you to topple to the ground like some sort of False plinko, now would we?” He held out a hand to help her as he spoke, something the fighter greatly appreciated. She took it and found her way to the chair, trying to pretend she wasn’t shaking all over.
“Better?” False looked up at Zed and nodded before breathing out a shaky breath.
“Hey, sorry if I startled you, I didn’t mean to do that, not in the slightest. And don’t you ‘It’s fine’ me, cause I can see that it isn’t,” he said, effectively shutting down her almost automatic attempt to make him stop worrying. “You’re gonna be alright, okay?”
It took her a second to respond, this time by simply nodding and reaching out for her pillow. False needed a few sweeps of her hand over the table before she found it, and the moment she did, she immediately pulled it towards her, resting her chin on top of it.
“I should… Yeah, I think… Yeah.” She nodded once more, just to strengthen her quite weak point.
“Good. Hmm… When all this is over I’m going to deliver a sheep to your base and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. You seem like someone in need of a pet of sorts.” Zedaph smiled widely as he stroked his chin, but there was not a hint of joke in his voice. Instead, he sounded just about as serious as he always did – which was to say, not very much so – so it was hard to discern whether he was actually going to make his words true. Then again, it did sound very Zedaph of him to do so. And, as a bonus point, it actually made False smile. Just a little, but it was enough to make Zed beam.
“There we go! That’s a step in the right direction, isn’t it? I-” He halted in the middle of his sentence, squinting as he tilted his head backwards. Zed sniffed the air, then dramatically turned back to the fighter. “You smell that?”
False mostly looked back with confusion in her eyes.
“I don’t-”
“It’s pancakes! Pancakes, I tell you! Shall we go and get some?”
She took another breath, deeper and less shaky than before. Her heartbeat had slowed down considerately, and she no longer felt like she had to draw her sword to defend herself, which was a good thing.
“That sounds like a plan. I’m taking the pillow, though.” To demonstrate her unwillingness to let go of the pillow, not even in exchange for pancakes, she squeezed it a little bit harder. “Oh, and...” False opened her inventory, looking around for a moment before selecting her sword and making it appear at her hip. She actually felt relieved at the familiar weight. “That’s better.”
Zed offered her a hand to help her stand up, but she actually gently batted it away, choosing to instead push herself up from the edge of the chair.
“So. Pancakes.”
“Pancakes indeed.”
With every passing second, the swede became more aware of the fact that the chain was too short. Too short to reach his friend, too short to reach his enemy, too short to do anything but shout and yell and protest for it to stop. He was trashing against the bond, trying and failing to get rid of it as he couldn’t help but watch what was happening. From the corner of his eye, Iskall saw how Ren was in much the same situation. In front of him, he had a perfect view of what that monster was doing to Python, which was no doubt as intended.
And so his eyes were focused on the painfully slow lines they were cutting into his skin and then deeper still on a second pass. Python was struggling to break away from Arachne’s claws, but even Iskall saw it was pointless. They were holding him up by the neck, having caught both his arms in one of their hands, twisted up as far as they went. Meanwhile, blood trickled down both from his hands, where his fingers used to be, and from the various places where they had torn open his arms, shoulders, and chest. His feet dangled, and even when he tried to kick out, his legs fell short.
And although he was not the one getting hurt, with every cut, every tear, every rip, every scream, Iskall felt as though he was being stabbed in the heart. This wasn’t something he wanted to watch happen, not in the slightest, but he needed to see Python, he needed to make sure he saw he was trying.
“Let him go you bastard! Leave Python alone! Stop this!” He felt as though he had said the words a hundred times already, perhaps even more still. And yet, he clung to the words as though they were his only weapon. In a sense, they were. “Why are you doing this?!”
In response, Python screamed louder as they made a perpendicular line across his arm and actually started slowly peeling away a little bit of skin. The scream devolved into a series of yelps and grunts and whines and sobs, and about half a minute later, the bit of red fell down to join the other bits already on the floor. And then, for the first time, Arachne actually turned to face them.
“One of the little flies will accept my mark. Only then will I let this one go.” A clicking sound left their mouth, almost as though they were chuckling. “Decide fast, and I might even heal him...”
Iskall looked from Python to Ren and back again, unsure of what to do. The question wasn’t if he was willing to give his life and sanity for his friend, the question was whether he could trust anything that spider said. That, and a rooted desire to spite the bastard in any way he could. It made taking a decision very hard. Had Python not been there, watching, it might have been easier to make a decision, as he also didn’t outright want to deny him healing and freedom from suffering to his face.
How do they expect me to make this decision?
“Guysh, don’t… don’t do it! I-I’ll endure thish, really, I-” Before he could finish his sentence, Arachne had punched Python straight in the nose, which cracked and didn’t quite stand straight after that.
“No one asked you to talk, little fly… Do that again and I’ll have your tongue.”
To Iskall, the words didn’t even sound like a threat. Instead, they sounded like a promise, one he just knew they would keep.
Is he really sure about that? I know I wouldn’t be, but… Is it selfish to feel relieved he told us not to accept it? I really, really don’t want to accept anything that bastard has to offer, and yet, I also don’t want to leave him to his fate. I can’t, I just can’t, there has to be something I can do.
His eye wandered and found Ren again, and for a short moment their eyes locked. He seemed angry, so angry at the situation, but as the swede gestured towards the snake man currently dangling from their enemy’s grasp, Ren merely shook his head.
Arachne seemingly took that as their cue to continue casually flaying away bits of skin, making Python scream out in agony. His eyes were still open, but it now seemed as though he was actively avoiding both Rens and Iskalls gaze. Nevertheless, the swede could see how watery his eyes were becoming, and how the occasional droplet trickled down to mix with the blood pouring from his nose as the pile of red on the floor grew larger and larger.
I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I should and I have to but I can’t I can’t I don’t dare sacrifice myself why can’t I just say it I have to I have to I have to just say it just say it it isn’t hard just do it I don’t want to hear him being in pain any longer
His eye once again moved over to Ren. It took a little bit for the hippie to notice him as well. There was so much pain in his eyes, as there was in his own, and his fist was balled so tightly that his knuckles had long turned white. And yet, as he looked at Iskall… The swede saw how the other man exhaled a shaky breath, looking at the floor before smiling wryly.
It took him a second too long to realise what Ren was about to do.
“Arachne, stop this madness! I-” Ren swallowed heavily, tossing one last look towards Iskall before strengthening his stance. Arachne stopped what they were doing, turning towards the hippie with malicious glee in their eyes.
“NO, REN, DON’T!” Iskall shouted, while Python seemed to just glide into a passive stare-at-the-ground state.
“Python, Iskall, I’m so sorry, but… I can’t take this any more. This has to stop.” Ren turned to Arachne. “I accept your mark. Now leave my friends alone.”
“Excellent...” The spider unceremoniously dropped Python from their grasp, instead moving over to Ren. “Well chosen, little fly, though not fast enough.”
Iskall did much of the same, attempting to get close enough to actually stand between his enemy and his friend.
No, this isn’t what’s supposed to be happening, Ren’s supposed to be the strong one! Why- I… I shouldn’t have let that happen to him. I should’ve just… It should be me. Ren and Python stand a lot better chance to not give in at a later moment, if the Hermits don’t come, it HAS to be me.
And so he butted Ren backwards, resolve building in his mind.
“No, Ren. I won’t let you do this. I-”
“Are you out of your damned mind? You can’t just-”
“Shut up. I… I’m taking your place. Python needs you, man, not me. You-”
“Iskall, why-”
“I wasn’t done! You’re a lot better at encouraging hope than I am.”
Behind him, Iskall heard a sigh.
“Are you really sure about this?”
“I- Positive.” He breathed out once more and faced the spider right in front of him, that seemed to have been watching the situation unfurl with… Was that sadistic glee? In any case, Iskall let his hand curl into a fist, his nails digging into the skin of his palm. “I accept your mark. And, as Ren said… Leave my friends alone.” As he said the words, Arachne’s mandibles moved up in a grin.
“Oh? How interesting, little fly,” they spoke as they came forward, laying one pair of hands on his arms, keeping him in place. Iskall felt his heart speed up, and every single fibre of his body was protesting his decision, wanting to do nothing more than to break away and to flee far from there.
And yet, there he was. In the claws of his enemy. Speaking about claws, the swede could see how they seemed to move the fingers of one hand around a claw on the other, and as they pulled away, the claw was longer – and sharper – than before. The world seemed to fall into silence, except for the soft sobbing coming from the pile of misery that was Python.
Then the claw pierced straight into his heart, a sickly green glow emanating from it. Numbness spread through his veins as his senses slowly dulled. He felt his muscles give out, and as the claw retracted he fell to the ground. His vision was the first to go, but it would have been more merciful if it had been his hearing instead.
“Wait, what are you-” The words were followed by a whimper and a clicking chuckle.
“You accepted the mark too, l i t t l e f l y . . .”
The last thing he felt before his thoughts went black was a feeling of fear and betrayal.
Notes:
The first perspective was supposed to be pure fluff, I don't know what happened there :(
In any case, you're all welcome to yell at me now at the platform of your choice.
Chapter 58: Arc 2 - 10
Summary:
Connections broken, connections made. A lesson in economics.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Since when do you drink tea?” Cleo asked as he passed her at the door to the cell, steaming cup in hand.
“I don’t,” was his simple answer as he opened the lock and stepped inside.
“Well, you do you, Doc. Just let me know if you need me, I’ll be out here. Impulse needed to go do other things.” She casually adjusted the quiver on her hip, leaning onto her bow.
“Don’t worry, I got this.” He winked at the captain, then closed the door behind him. The lock clicked, and he knew he was now locked in with the robot. It was still in the exact same place he left him in, which caused some relief at the very least. Although he trusted his tech, he also mistrusted the spider controlling the robot enough to have worried about him waking up somewhere halfway through his return trip to get the beverage. But that hadn’t happened, so he was glad.
Doc once again placed the tea near where Biffa had been tied up, but not close enough to accidentally stumble over should he need to step back quickly. Then he cracked the knuckles on his non-cyborg hand. Picking up the diagnostics screen, he double-checked for changes – there were none – before very carefully stopping any kind of diagnostics program running on the robot. He’d rather not terminate any running program by disconnecting the wires, that was just asking for trouble, either in the shape of things getting more corrupted than they already were, or quite possibly in the removal of important data. Neither of those sounded like something he wanted to happen.
As he turned off the last few programs, he could see how some of the buttons on Biffa’s chest started to blink with colour, as did a few of the lights near the neck ports. Signs of rebooting. Doc nodded to himself, almost removing the wires from his neck before realising it was probably easier to grab hold of dangling wires than it was to plug them back in, should he need them. As long as he made sure that Biffa wouldn’t be able to grab them, it should be fine.
And so he found himself very carefully draping the wires to the back of the chair, out of reach for the robot, especially considering the fact that his hands were tied to the armrests. It would take a serious amount of wiggling to get those to be in a spot where he could grab them, and even then Doc wondered what he could do with that. Safe enough. For now.
The cyborg took a step back and just watched. Watched and hoped for something to be changed, for something to be better. Idle hope, perhaps, but that was the best thing he had at that point. Slowly but surely more lights started to blink on as the lights flickered above his head a few times. Doc still wasn’t too sure why they had put Biffa in this room, but then again, it was possibly the most workable room on the level. This one wasn’t completely upside down, filled with water, or had a floor that was actually lava. Doc suddenly remembered something and picked up the cup of tea, that was in the meanwhile reaching a very agreeable strength.
Better have it ready for when he comes to.
Little lights blinked, and then slightly larger eyes blinked, at first coming to life in a familiar blue before switching to a violent green one blink later. With it came small movements, then a very calculated series of bends and stretches in joints to check if everything was still in order. Of course that test failed a little bit thanks to the bound state Biffa was in, but it was one of the clearer signs that the rest of booting had been successful.
Another sign of that was the slight shift in position, and the refocussing of his eyes on Doc. His gaze was still hostile, still full of spite and hate towards him.
“Hey there man, I got you your tea, as promised. Do you want a sip?” Doc held out the cup, careful to not let it spill. While it didn’t seem like Biffa had returned to normal, he had noticed the split second he had seemed to be there. The strategy of continuing a pattern the robot should in theory know could help a little bit. Or at least, that’s what he hoped. For a second they looked at each other, the stare calculating from both sides. Then Biffa nodded once, not saying anything.
Doc had not quite thought this far ahead. Then again, if the robot was asking for the drink, that seemed like a step in the right direction. The problem now was that he didn’t want to get too close to him, but at the same time, he couldn’t just go and untie an arm so he could accept the cup himself. From those two solutions, the first seemed better in basically every way.
Thus he moved to the back of the chair, and carefully moved the cup to be in front of Biffa’s lips. The robot tentatively seemed to move forwards, towards it, and Doc was just about to sigh in relief when the hard metal of his head came shooting backwards, impacting with his stomach. As it did, his arm lurched forwards, the tea spilling out of the cup and over Biffa. The robot itself actually only struggled to get free for a second, before he suddenly sat still, and Doc was thinking the worst.
Oh no, I hope that didn’t go into into his casing at any point. I really hope that didn’t just fry his circuitry. Towel. I need a towel to-
“Blimey, Doc, be careful with that! Don’t go wasting tea!”
The words were like an echo from the past, and Doc was quite sure he had heard them before, somehow, somewhere. Maybe another maintenance job? There had been so many, though, it was hard to pinpoint.
“Wait, Biffa, are you…?” The cyborg moved to the side so he could see more of his front side. The robot turned to look at him with a shocked expression, his eyes shining blue. Shock turned to smile and then to grin as the green came back, eye colour changing between two blinks. Immediately, the struggle to get free from his bonds continued, but Doc just staggered backwards.
That was Biffa. The real Biffa. It had to be. I don’t know what else it could have been, not at all. He’s still in there, I just knew I hadn’t misheard him before the deep dive. The- I need to go tell the others. This is important, this is so damned important.
He was just in the process of securing the last few enchanted books and bits of armour from the villagers at iTrade when he felt his communicator buzz in his pocket. His stomach dropped pre-emptively, before he had even gone and taken the device out. He didn’t want to read about yet another one of his friends that had fallen, not at all.
“Hrrrrmm...”
The villager in front of Impulse looked at him with a raised eyebrow, impatiently gesturing from the emeralds in his hand to the book they had been bartering about. Of course he would. The villager likely wasn’t even aware of what was happening out there, thanks to the security of the store and the isolation from villagers on the outside. Impulse, despite having quite the experience with villagers, didn’t quite know Villagerese, and he wondered if there was any Hermit that did. So unless a spider had wandered in here and had started doing spidery things – there hadn’t been, Impulse had checked – there was no way for the villager to know. Unless of course the villager also understood Traveller’s Tongue and had overheard something, but once again, he was kept in the depths of iTrade, where no one really wandered past gossiping about what was going on.
He was pulled from the train of thought when his communicator buzzed again, apparently impatient with how long it took for him to pick it up and read.
Pleaaaase don’t be a death message. That would be great, okay?
Impulse grabbed his communicator, breathing out once before taking a peek at the screen. Much to his relief, it was a private message instead.
<xisumavoid> Could you come back to the bunker as soon as you can?
<xisumavoid> There have been a few important developments, so I’m calling a meeting :-)
<ImpulseSV> gotcha, be right there
<ImpulseSV> i just need to haggle two or three more bane of arthropods books from this guy and im done
<ImpulseSV> hes a total pushover though
<ImpulseSV> i can probably shave off like three quarters of what he’s asking for them and still have him apologise to me for the steep price
He put the communicator away again and politely smiled at the villager, as if he hadn’t just been insulting him behind his back.
“Hrrrm?” the villager mumbled, holding up the book and gesturing for payment.
“No way,” said Impulse, shifting some emeralds between his hands before pointing downwards. He was not about to pay a stack of emeralds for a bane of arthropods book, and it wasn’t even because he didn’t have the emeralds. He just didn’t want the villager to get… ideas. Just because they were in the middle of a crisis situation didn’t mean the villagers would get to drive their prices up big time.
Nevertheless, the villager shook his head and pointed upwards, indicating that he was not at all okay with the drop in price Impulse was trying to push through. Impulse, on his turn, put away some of the emeralds, changing them out for a golden apple and what looked like a clear waterballoon filled with a sickly black liquid. Then he smiled innocently as he pointed downwards once more. The eyes of the librarian widened as small beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. This was very much outside of the normal script Impulse employed. Generally, there were a few more back and forths, including walking away and checking out the wares of a different librarian, wanting to buy in bulk, and pointing out how much things he had bought at the librarian already. Generally, Impulse didn’t immediately threaten with zombiefication and curing.
Generally, though, Impulse could afford it to take his sweet time lowering prices. Now was different. Now he didn’t hesitate with pulling out the big guns almost immediately. The librarian was shuffling around in his little holding cell restlessly, looking from the Hermit to the other villagers in the room, who were also eyeing the things in Impulse’s hands with worry on their faces. Impulse ignored them for now, instead just waiting for the answer of the villager in front of him.
Said villager didn’t seem happy in the slightest as he begrudgingly pointed downwards, dropping to the low, low price of twelve emeralds per enchanted book. It wasn’t as low as Impulse might have wanted, having regularly gotten the prices down to just one emerald per book for other wares, but this would have to do. He was already late for the meeting, after all. And so he took the necessary emeralds, thirty-six total, back out of his inventory, holding up three fingers to indicate he wanted three books.
“Hrrrrrm…” the librarian sighed, before digging up the books and carefully handing them over. The Hermit then put down the emeralds and accepted the books, immediately shoving them in his inventory.
“Thanks for the trade! And see you again soon!” he said cheerfully before turning around to get to the bamboo scaffolding connecting the cellar of iTrade to the ground floor. Behind him, he could hear villagers sighing in relief, but he paid little mind to it. He had no doubt they’d have forgotten about the little incident by the time he came back, and otherwise, a little bit of turning and curing always seemed to do the trick.
Impulse looked around carefully before exiting the building and dashing for the portal dead ahead. It was probably the quickest and safest way back, even though the walk to the bunker wasn’t at all that long. As far as he knew, there were no spiders in the Nether, and that was fewer than there were in the Overworld, so that was a solid reason to take that route in his book.
And indeed, it didn’t take long for him to be safely back in the bunker. His legs almost automatically carried him to the meeting room, where quite some, but not all of the others were already sitting and chatting to each other, some with a nice plate of pancakes in front of them, others with large mugs full of steaming coffee. As if they were waiting for something or someone.
As Impulse looked around, he didn’t spot Xisuma yet, and his teammate Tango neither. Doc and Cleo weren’t there either, but that made some kind of sense. Those two were on one of the lower levels, busy with other important things. And the other empty chairs… well. He knew what had caused that. Those chairs would stay empty, until hopefully after the raid. Then they should all be filled again, then all of his friends should be back.
For now, though, he sat down next to Zedaph, who happily shoved a few pancakes his way, and he waited. It didn’t actually take long before the last few missing people came walking in. Xisuma first, clearly thinking about something or another as he meandered his way to his usual spot at the head of the meeting table. Then came Tango, setting a few paces into the room before looking over his shoulder, beckoning for someone to step forwards. Impulse frowned.
Who… That… Wait, don’t we have basically everyone already? Who…?
As the blue and white shape stepped into view, a gasp went through the room, and somewhere, a mug dropped to the ground and shattered. He certainly looked worse for wear, but there was no denying who it was.
“Jevin?”
Notes:
Would you look at that, actual good things happening!
Chapter 59: Arc 2 - Chapter 11
Summary:
Fade to reality. The direction of a step depends on the perspective.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
After an indescribable amount of time, green and purple crossed once more, and once more, new colours showed. Not cerulean and azure this time, but… Purple. Purple and grey and white. Buildings, circles placed with utmost precision and care between large canopy trees. Arched waterways crossed through the landscape, as did white streets below them. Signs of civilisation. Of someone having been there.
The figure didn’t waste a single thought on whether they should go through, or at the very least try. They recognised that place. They had been there Before. It had been in the background on That Day, in That Moment even. How could they forget that?
They floated over, their movements determined to get there and through as fast as possible. If they could get through, that was, but if a vision from a different place could get to this place, surely something from this place should be able to get to that different place.
Unlike the first time, the rift was still open by the time they reached it. Their hand stretched out, and only just before it touched did it waver, a last moment of uncertainty before touching it. As with the matterless matter, however, their hand went right through. Instead, they felt something.
Something they had not felt in a while.
The feeling of warmth shining down on the skin of their fingers and wrist, where it wasn’t covered by a glove.
The feeling of a gentle breeze blowing past.
Their eyes widened as they floated further into the rift, the feeling of warmth spreading further and further. With the feeling of warmth came colours as well, colours they had forgotten were once assigned to them. Skin turned from a washed-out grey into the colour skin was supposed to be, and as bits of their armour went through, that too returned to its previous colour.
Their foot went through as gravity started to take a hold on them, and for a moment they worried about tipping over and out of the rift. Then their foot found solid ground, and they stepped the rest of the way through. It was a strange sensation, after floating for such a – long? - time, to be really standing again, but it did not feel unnatural to them. It was only now that they were standing that they realised the world had changed at some point. Or rather, their visor had. Everything had taken on a reddish hue, a sign that their helmet – and with it, their visor – had gone back to its previous colour. It was perhaps the only thing they disliked about being where they now were. In that other place, the few colours they could see were pure and untampered with, and now… Well. Everything was impure, in a way. Tainted with the red.
Involuntarily, they looked over their shoulder, to see the last fractions of the rift closing behind them. There was no way back now. Well, unless they ran into their brother, of course, but that was an issue they’d deal with when they’d come across them, if he even was still in this world.
They breathed in and out calmly, before moving their hands to their helmet to hit the small buttons to open it up. This could well be a bad idea, as they knew the Overworld air had never been kind to them before, but they simply had to try. Perhaps time had changed things for the better, time and that other place.
The seal broke with a hiss as air rushed in, and they only managed to get one big gulp of the stuff in before they realised it was way to thick and humid to breathe for them, almost as though they were trying to inhale syrup.
SHIT!
Their hands started moving on their own, desperate to get the helmet back to its sealed state so his advanced air filters could kick in once more, but fine movements while slightly panicking and not able to breathe were almost impossible to say the least. They grew more woozy by the second, and they felt themselves fall to their knees as they struggled to get the latches to click.
Come on come on come on work, dammit, work!
Fingers now shaking, they finally found the right places to put pressure on, and after what felt like ages, the seal closed once more. Painfully slowly the thick air was moved out of their face, replaced by the thin, filtered air they were actually able to process. They were breathing hard and shallow, just making sure they got all of the bad stuff out of their system before they even tried standing up again. Judging by the purple beneath them, they were on one of the rooftops, and fainting and falling down from one sounded painful. They shifted to a sitting position as they waited, looking out over the landscape with growing unease, expecting someone to see them and send them back where they had just come from. They really didn’t want that. At all.
As their eyes wandered, however, they found no one. What they did find, however, were cobwebs. So. Many. Cobwebs. How they hadn’t noticed them before was a mystery, as they clearly did not fit with the elegant arches that made up the buildings. A shiver went down their spine as their mind came up with theories as to what might have happened to the place. Maybe it was as simple as just time, and the former inhabitants of the world having left, but… everything aside from the webs was still as pristine as it could get. A second possibility was that this place had simply been overrun by spiders not too long ago, but had not been fully deserted. The second option would mean that those that lived here would return eventually.
They swallowed, then slowed down their breathing. It was probably best for them to start moving, towards one of their previous hideouts. Their communicator should still have the coordinates saved, so- Their hand found only an empty belt pouch where their communicator used to be, before… Well, just Before.
Right. He took it from me, stole it from me to make sure I’d be alone, with no way out. And then they have the guts to call ME the evil one..
Their hands balled to fists at the memory.
“Don’t worry, brother. I will find you, and I will make you feel what I felt,” they muttered, their voice deep and hoarse from the time they hadn’t used it. “You can count on that.”
Getting back to their feet, they noticed a soft hum in the air, one that seemed to be getting louder and louder as time ticked on. One that seemed to be coming their way. They did not particularly want to wait for whatever it was to get close, though, not while they were still out in the open. And so they made their way over to the edge of the roof, looking down on the street below. They were still quite high, and the idea of falling down there without any sort of protection was not high up their wishlist. Instead, though, they could just about see the little balcony hiding under the overhang, and they should be able to swing themselves onto that without too much issue. And from there… Well, they hoped there was a way in. The humming didn’t stop getting closer, and as they looked around, they could see something flying their way.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Gotta get out of here. I do NOT want to know what that is.
They quickly went and swung their feet over the edge, lowering themselves until they were hanging on by just their hands. Then they swung forwards and backwards a few times to pick up some speed, to then let go of the roof the moment just before they would stop moving forwards. For a very short moment, they were floating in the air, before landing squarely on the stone floor. They didn’t waste time waiting around, instead opting to move forwards, into the building and hopefully out of sight. It didn’t help that the room was divided by two sets of tracks that went straight through the middle, causing holes in the walls at both sides of the room. Nevertheless, there were chests and stacks of hay they could hide behind as they waited for the flying thing to pass by.
So that’s exactly what they did, finding a spot between a few stacked chests and the corner, and as a last thought they picked up some hay, sitting down and dumping it over themselves to hide the red of their armour a little bit better.
And then they waited.
The only reason he stopped dusting off the statue was because he felt the call to action. The call to retrieve two more coats, and to bring them downstairs, to the cells. A sign that two more flies had stepped on the right path. Sally immediately laid down his duster, neatly on top of the rest of his cleaning supplies, such that he would easily be able to find it back when he was dismissed once more. Not that he particularly minded being called upon, but still. Being at least a little bit organised never hurt anyone.
He was just about to head out of the room when spiders came skittering in, clicking and hissing the exact same message the little spider had already received just moments before.
“I’m aware,” he coldly remarked before moving straight past them, headed for the storage. Best not to keep his master waiting. His feet took him through the hallways almost automatically, and before he knew it he was already carefully taking coats from the chest they were in. There were still a few more in there, but at the rate the conversions were currently going, those would probably not be enough. Something he should probably bring up to his master as well, or at the very least inform the spiders about. Sally was not entirely sure where the coats generally came from, so it was something he would need to delegate anyway.
Gently closing the chest as he was done, Sally then made his way further downstairs. While his master had not actually declared which cell the coats needed to go to, it was easy enough to figure that out. Two servant’s coats, and as far as he knew there was only one cell with two or more unmarked flies in there. Of course, there were still two more unmarked ones in two of the other cells, but if he was wrong about it he would find out soon enough.
I do hope I’m not wrong, though. I would rather not anger my master.
The little spider turned on his heels in front of the doorway at the end of the hall, listening for a moment to hear what was going on inside. A soft sobbing came drifting outwards, as did some skittering noises. He was most definitely at the right place, then. Without further doubts, he walked in, to indeed find his master standing over two bodies, looking down at them.
“I brought what you requested, master,” he spoke, making his presence further known than it probably already was. He bowed slightly as well as a sign of respect, before making sure his eyes were averted to the ground. He heard his master shift slightly towards him before they spoke.
“Excellent, my little spider. Now… You know what to do with these… little flies.” They gestured towards the bodies under them, before reaching down, removing the chains with some complex finger motions and a series of clicks and hisses.
“Of course, master.” Sally waited patiently for them to step aside, allowing him the first clear look at who was at the ground. One in green, one in red. The one in black laid further away, moving more than the others and actually producing sound as well. As he came closer, he also noticed the one in black was splattered with blood and was shaking with sobs, unlike the other two, that had a vaguely green tint from where their veins had shifted in colour. It wasn’t hard to imagine what had happened there.
Now that the little spider had a better view on the men on the ground, he felt that pesky little fly within him stir and claw to get to the surface, but this time he felt it coming. This time, he was able to quell that revolt before it could take root. This time, the only outward sign of anything happening at all was a brief twitch of his eyelid.
I hope that pathetic little fly just dies off before too long…
With that thought, he went to work, clinical and methodical. Sally removed the green sweater first, careful to keep it in one piece for in the collection. Ripping it open and away would be easiest, truly, but that simply would not do. That was not good enough. Only the best for his master. It took a bit of finicking to move the unconscious body in such a way that he could actually take off the sweater, but in the end, he managed. Sally carefully folded it up and put it to the side, before continuing on with putting on the coat. Once again, a bit tricky, but once he had managed to get the arms through the correct holes it didn’t take long.
A hint of a smile appeared on his face as he fastened the hooks and eyes in front, neatly covering part of the spider sigil on the man’s chest, sitting where it was always supposed to be.
With that done, the little fly shifted over to the man in red. The first order of business was removing the makeshift sling that was keeping his arm in place. No more need for that, seeing as it had straightened out and healed since the last time he had seen the man. Without a doubt a courtesy of his master after the man had seen the light and had accepted. The sling, too, got folded up a little before being added to the pile, followed not soon after by a pair of suspenders and a red button-up.
Not a minute later, the second man was also wearing the servant’s coat.
Sally stood up once more, picking up the pile of folded clothes and stepping backwards. His master then stepped forwards almost completely ignoring him, clicking and hissing as their hands got shrouded in a green glow. They picked up the chains and reattached them to the collars once again. Being marked did not make it so that little flies wouldn’t be able to escape, not at all. Sally knew the restraints would only be removed once the little flies had become little spiders, kneeling and waiting for their master to come collect them. He knew, because that was his very first memory. Kneeling and waiting.
His eyes went from the two unconscious men to the one that had meanwhile stopped sobbing, instead choosing to ball up as far away from them as possible, his chain not even touching the ground between the two points it was connected to. From the corner of his eye, Sally could see how the man was looking at them whenever he thought they weren’t watching, and so he decided to just stare and smirk at the man for some time.
“Master, what about the other one?” he asked without losing line of sight. A few disgruntled clicks came in response.
“That little fly… Will be left alone for now. A deal was made, and a deal shall be honoured.” Sally almost swore he could hear an amount of resent in their voice, as though they were quite unhappy about the situation. He calmly observed the quivering pile of man, that seemed to quiver ever so slightly less since being told he was in the clear. For now.
“Of course, master.”
Without another word, they finished connecting the chains and walked to the hidden doorway. There, they halted, turning around to face their prey.
“I will return, little fly, and then you will accept my mark.”
For a moment, it seemed like the man was going to actually say something back, but in the end, he just managed to ball up even more, weary and afraid eyes looking from the little spider to his master and back.
“Now, come, little spider… there is work to do.”
Notes:
Would you look at that. Stuff happened. Good or bad, who knows?
Chapter 60: Arc 2 - Chapter 12
Summary:
Assembly. Trust tested.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
While others around him started chattering, standing and looking and not understanding, the old man just sat and stared, taking in the slime man in the doorway with a healthy dose of suspicion and mistrust. He had been the one to relay Jevin’s death message to the others as they were trying to fortify the bunker, and after seeing how Biffa had acted… There was no way in hell that this was just Jevin.
I trust this just about as far as I can throw ‘im.
TFC silently took a sip from his coffee as Xisuma and Tango made an effort to make the other Hermits sit down once more. Meanwhile, Jevin looked properly like a deer in the headlights, eyes restlessly darting through the room as though he was looking for something. The old man caught his gaze a few times, two pairs of blue eyes staring into each other for a second before Jevin’s gaze wandered on once more.
“Guys, we’ll get to the elephant in the room in a moment – I’m not calling you fat, Jev, just a figure of speech – so please just sit down for a few seconds. There’s a lot to discuss,” Xisuma said, a certain amount of tiredness bleeding through into his voice despite it still being relatively early in the morning. Then again, TFC was not doubting in the slightest how exhausting the last few days had been, especially for the admin. Maybe not necessarily physically exhausting, but all the scheming and arranging and overseeing and worrying had to have cost a lot of energy.
Despite the admin’s request, however, the Hermits still stood. False, white as a sheet, was halfway through drawing her sword. Joe and Keralis, who save for a freshly mended tear in his shirt looked as though nothing happened to him, were murmuring between the two of them, casting suspicious glances towards Jevin every now and then. Stress was looking worried but not afraid in the slightest, while Mumbo was stammering and tripping over his words, seemingly unnerved by something. Impulse and Zedaph were questioning Tango already as Cub just sat, rubbing his forehead with both hands.
Xisuma looked around with an amount of annoyance and defeat in his eyes. Then he sighed and just sat down again. Getting the Hermits to listen was generally a lot like herding cats, TFC almost lived by that rule of thumb. He didn’t know much about herding cats, but he did know that a few well-placed loud noises could make them at least go into the direction you wanted them to go.
And so, after making eye contact with X for a moment, he let his fist loudly come down on the table a few times before standing up. While it caused a few of his friends to jump, it was enough to get the attention of all of them.
“Kids, sit down, yer admin has been wantin’ to say some things. It’s quite disrespectful what y’all’re doin’ at the moment.” His gruff voice was loud and very present, and he was only a tad amused that Mumbo responded to it by awkwardly opening and closing his mouth a few times before just shaking his head and sitting down again. He still seemed at least a little unnerved by something, but really, who wasn’t? A few of the others muttered an apology before sitting down as well, while Jevin kept awkwardly standing in the doorway until Tango gestured for him to come in and sit down next to him. Zedaph, who was sitting on the other side of the slime man, then proceeded to move his chair a little bit further to the side, away from him.
The old man saw something that looked remarkably like hurt on Jevin’s face but pushed it to the side for now. He could feel sorry for the man later, once it was confirmed that it was actually him. TFC was not about to expend sadness nor pity on a potential enemy.
“Alright then. Thanks for coming on such short notice, everyone. There’s a few topics that need some discussion before we fly out. The most obvious of which –“ he gestured towards the slime man “- is that Jevin is back. I think- Yes, Keralis?” Xisuma started, unable to get in much more before Keralis’ hand had shot up.
“Can we trust him? I mean, I’m all for welcoming him back, but…” his voice trailed off as his hand found the place where a returned ‘friend’ had stabbed him the evening before. Jevin’s eyes found the table in front of him as he shifted around a little, retreating his head further into his sweater as he hugged himself for comfort. The admin opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, he was cut off by Tango.
“I’m vouching for him. I strongly believe Jevin is who he says he is, mostly because he looks the same, not with any of the green squiggly lines or glowing green eyes that Biffa had.” He then proceeded to make eye contact with everyone on the table.
“Is that enough for you, Keralis?” Xisuma asked before looking at the man. He nodded, and the admin sighed. “Alright then. Is there anyone else that does not trust Jevin to be Jevin right now?”
TFC sat, stroking his beard and thinking about it. Tango trusted it, and given that the old man trusted the demon… Well. It didn’t take away all suspicion, but it quelled it enough to drop some of his caution. To his side, though, False raised a shaking hand, her eyes fixated on Jevin.
On the other side of the table, Tango let out a frustrated sigh, already putting his hands on the table to stand up. Then a blue hand stopped him, and Jevin spoke up instead, his voice soft and shaky with undertones of desperation.
“Look, I… I know it’s hard to believe, but… I got out. I got out before they turned me, but… but if you don’t think the lack of, well… markings… If you don’t think the lack of those proves I’m still me, I…“ He took a shaky breath before continuing. “I don’t know how to prove that I am. I just… I- I… Please don’t send me away, I, I-I don’t wanna go back there, please, they’ll torture me again, they’ll kill me, they- they’ll change me. I don’t- Please trust me, I’m Jevin. I’m still Jevin.” The guy sounded as though he was going to start hyperventilating any moment as he pleaded for his friends to believe him. Stress gasped at what he said, while the worry lines in Xisuma’s face only deepened.
The old man’s eyes slowly went from Jevin to False and back again, observing how both of them seemed to struggle with their own demons. The fighter seemed to come to a grimacing realisation after a few moments of tense silence before sighing and shaking her head. Her face hardened, and she looked up.
“Alright then. I’ll believe you, but…” She swallowed. “If you give us any reason to believe you’re… well… Not Jevin, I will take you down.” In response, the slime man was quick to nod, seemingly relieved.
“I-I understand.”
It was silent for another few seconds before Xisuma cleared his throat.
“Are we good to continue, then?” He looked around before continuing. “Excellent. As I was saying, Jevin is back, which is a good thing on multiple fronts. First of all, it means he’s home safe once more. Besides that, it gives us something that might help us in the upcoming raid: intel on the layout of the spider’s den, and an idea as to what happens in there. That might make quite the difference once we kick the plan into gear. Aside from this, there’s a few more topics we need to discuss. The wildfire that’s still raging in the east is one of them, as are a few… worrisome developments around villagers. And lastly, of course, are the last few details for the raid.”
At the mention of villagers, Cub shifted in his seat uncomfortably, teeth bit together as his eyes found a spot on the wall to stare at. TFC noticed, but didn’t say anything of it. He knew the capitalist was part of the surveillance team, so the guess that Cub had discovered a development or two wasn’t too wild or unrealistic. Still, the question remained what exactly had happened, but again, he was reasonably sure that it would be told somewhere during the meeting. Else X wouldn’t have brought it up, it was that simple.
And indeed, after a short pause to let his words sink in, X went and continued on.
“Because basically all of the things I just mentioned are problems we need to somehow tackle, I will go through them from most to least pressing. So, first up, the raid. How are preparations? Impulse, Stress, how is our armour situation?”
The two looked at each other, with the ice queen gesturing to the trader to go ahead.
“Well, most gear is enchanted already, except for some Bane of Arthropods swords, but I think Stress and I can get that done in about… Twenty minutes tops? We started distributing some of the godarmour already, so if anyone here hasn’t come by to pick it up yet, please do so soon, so we can still make adjustments if necessary.”
Stress nodded to that.
“Some o’ the armour bases come from the villagers, so we might need to change the fit a lil’ bit, go over the straps and all that. Can’t have anyone complaining about ill-fitting armour, now can we?” She smiled slightly at the others, worry not entirely having left her face just yet.
“That’s good to hear. What about other supplies? Rockets, golden carrots, potions…?” X looked around, searching for the faces responsible for each of the parts. Keralis spoke up first.
“Well, we got quite far rolling rockets, but we didn’t have an end goal so we’ve just been making as many as we could, really. We got about- Wait, what’s that?” He squinted, tilting his ear towards the door. TFC cocked his head to the side, not entirely sure what the wide-eyed man was on about, but not seconds later he heard it too.
Footsteps, rapidly approaching, echoing through the hallways at a fast pace.
More and more of the Hermits noticed it too, half standing up, hands on weaponry already. There really weren’t many options as to who or what the footsteps could be, and not many of those were good options either.
And so they stood and waited, the mood growing more tense by the moment. Until the door opened, and a familiar green shape burst in.
“I have a way to cure Biffa!”
Notes:
With this chapter, this now is the longest piece of fiction I've ever written. So uh. Yeah. That's a thing.
Chapter 61: Arc 2 - Chapter 13
Summary:
Cause and effect. Gears put into motion. Revelations.
Notes:
Be aware that this chapter is a little bit longer than normal. TW for mild body horror/gore and graphic descriptions of pain spread over the third perspective. It builds up over time, and if it ain't your jam, you can safely skip to the last paragraph of the perspective.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It had been quiet for a while, and Scar had finally stopped shaking in his arms. The duo could still only theorise about what had happened, and Wels couldn’t quite figure out whether that was a good thing or not. On the one hand it was good, because it hadn’t affected them, but on the other side… Something had happened to their friends. Something bad, if the amount of yelling and screaming had been something to go by. He was worried about them, very much so, and the uncertainty was not at all helping. How could he tell Scar not to worry, that everything was fine, if he himself didn’t believe that?
He slowly drew in a breath before letting it go once more.
I can think and theorise and wonder as long as I want, but that is not going to solve anything. We’ll probably only know what happened if either that spider comes to visit, or when we come face to face with the Endbusters once more, and who knows how long that’s going to take? Hmm… I do wonder when that will be. I sent out the call for aid quite some time ago, how much longer is it going to be before help arrives? It can never be long, they-
“Hey, Wels?” asked the landscaper, pulling him from his thoughts and pulling away from the embrace.
“Hmm?” he responded, to show he was listening as he let go of Scar once more.
“I just… I wanted to say thank you, for what you did. Thanks for distracting me when… Well. You know. That was… that entire situation was enjoy-“ Scar winced at his words. “No, not that. It was bad, Wels, it was so bad. I- I’m not sure if I could have pulled through if it wasn’t for you.”
Wels nodded, forcing a smile to his lips.
“It was the least I could do. And… Don’t worry. I’ll do whatever’s necessary to help you not give in. I promise you that.” I can’t have someone else slipping away because of my words or actions. He clenched his teeth to not let the thought slip out with the rest of his words. He had the feeling that if he did, that would not necessarily help Scar feel safe. Besides… It was an unfortunate truth he was ashamed of, especially because protecting people was very high up his list of ideals. Wels just knew this soil on his track record would bother him for quite some time, probably even after everything had returned to normal.
“Thank you. It’s just… Can I tell you something?” Scar’s face twisted into something halfway between sadness and worry.
“Of course, any time, I’ll listen.” The smile on his lips was a bit more real and encouraging now. If listening to a friend meant helping them, he’d gladly do it.
“Well… When all that was happening…” He paused for a moment, swallowing before continuing. “When that happened, it felt… I’ve never felt more conflicted in my life, and I know half of those thoughts weren’t even my own, but they felt like it. Wels, truth is, I am so darned scared, part of me actually liked hearing Python in agony, and… And that’s something I want.” He paused, grasping his hair and facing away from Wels. “No. No, no, no, that’s not something I want, brain, work with me here, please.” The landscaper violently shook his head, before taking a deep breath and returning his eyes back to Wels. “Point is… I… it is getting really hard to distinguish what thoughts are from me and what thoughts are from me. Ugh, you get what I mean. I mostly just kinda realise after I’ve thought the thought or said the words, and it’s… It is so frustrating and scary and I just want it to stop. Wels, I don’t know how long I can keep this up. It is so difficult and I know it would be so easy to give in and it’s just…” At that point, he just stopped talking, substituting words with frustrated hand motions.
Meanwhile, the knight was listening, feeling his stomach drop more with each word Scar was saying. This isn’t good. If only I had some idea as to how this all went for Grian, I’d be able to help more. I’d… Well. I’d hopefully have an idea as to how to prevent – or, more probably, delay – any kind of turning or giving in.
“Scar, don’t do that. Giving in is only going to make things worse in the long run. You have got to keep fighting it, to keep fighting for who you are and what you stand for. We can’t let that dang spider win, okay? I’ll be here for you to lean on when you need it, and to help differentiate your thoughts from those that aren’t. It’s not like either of us is going anywhere anytime soon…” To mark his point, he jingled the chain connected to his collar.
“I know, I know, I’m trying! I…” He suddenly became silent, eyes widening as he slowly moved backwards.
“Scar, what-“ he tried to ask, before a voice that was very close behind him cut him off.
“The little fly sure likes to hear himself talk… I don’t. You speak of hope where there is none… Just give up already. Sooner or later you will accept my mark,” Arachne spoke, their voice a mix of their horrible chuckling and a condescending tone. Wels’ eyes focussed on Scar, who’s face had once more twisted into a seemingly sculpted smile. The knight felt his eyelid twitch as his heart started racing. This would not do. This would not at all do, not after his attempt to give Scar back at least a little bit of hope, to convince him to hang in there until the others came.
Really, the way this enemy spoke angered him. As if they were the one in charge of his future, and not himself. As if there was no hope, where there always was, if even just a spark. As if they knew the limits of his spite.
This is such a bad idea… but screw it!
Wels took a deep breath, and then stood up, turning towards them as he did. The knight became acutely aware of how close they were, and how much larger, but that did not stop him. It hadn’t stopped him before either, and he wasn’t planning on letting something like that stop him in the future. He despised bullies, especially the large ones.
“Now listen here, you bastard. No matter what you do, no matter what you threaten, I will never give in. I’d rather die than betray my friends like that. And you… you are not taking away any more of my friends, you hear me? None of them! Instead, they will come here, and they will take you down, I can guarantee it! You messed with the wrong group, and it will be your undoing. You are nothing but a pathetic, lonely, bullying, bastardly-“
About halfway through his rant, he felt a hard piece of carapace hit him in the stomach, forcing him backwards. He let out a grunt, before straightening his back once more and standing up against them in defiance. This had happened before, and that time they had realised he wasn’t broken that easily. That time, they had turned to… His eyes widened in realisation as his confidence wavered for a split second.
Okay, bad idea, bad idea! I don’t want them punishing Scar for what I’m doing, but it might be too late for that already…
“If the little fly were smart, he’d stop talking. Else there will be… Consequences.”
In his mind, he tried to reason what to do next. On the one hand, he was not one to run from confrontation, nor was he one to let an enemy’s threats stray him away from his ideals or code. On the other hand, if he wasn’t careful, one of his friends could get seriously hurt. Then again, he wondered how much they would do to Scar now that he was marked and awake. Would they be able to just turn him completely with the snap of a finger? Or were there some more difficult mechanics involved? He wasn’t sure, that was the thing making it difficult.
But if I back down now, what message will that send to Scar? I can’t just give in to their demands as long as he’s watching, not this soon after I told him not to do exactly that! Oh Scar, I don’t want you to hurt, but that’s a gamble I’ll need to make.
The knight collected himself, before making eye contact with the spider once more. Or at least, with one of their four pairs of eyes. It was the most he could do. Still, he looked into their eyes, face pissed.
"I will never be silent, you hear me? I will fight for what is right, and I'll be very vocal about it as I do so. You can try all you want, you can hurt me, you can maim me, you can kill me, but it won't stop me. But you... You will be stopped, and-"
Once again, a kick connected with his stomach, enough to force all air out of him. Wels staggered backwards, but as soon as he regained his breath he regained his stance as well.
An enemy that has to resort to violence has already lost.
"You will go down, and as you do, this entire thing you've built will fall with you. And I will be there, bringing it to the ground as-"
This time, he had seen the kick coming, and he braced for impact just in time. Nevertheless, the force was strong enough to knock him backwards once more.
"Wels!" Scar called out behind him, worry shining through in his voice.
"Don't worry, they cannot hurt me in any way that matters," he grimaced, his eyes still focussed on the creature in front of him.
"The little fly offers a challenge... I accept." The noise they brought forth did not in the slightest sound pleasant, their mandibles clicking together as additional hissing sounds came out of their mouth. It was not something that predicted something good was about to happen. Their hands moved to their back, and as they came back forwards, they were holding a strip of tied-together fabric, as well as a band of metal that looked a lot like the collar he was wearing. Wels squinted, unsure of what to make of it. Nevertheless, a few seconds later, he realised he recognised the fabric, or at the very least, it looked a lot like something he had seen before. The sling that had held up Ren’s arm. He had to fight all his instincts not to take a step back, and to instead move forwards.
“Threaten all you like, it won’t work. Not at all.” The knight widened his stance, standing with more confidence now. Behind him, he heard Scar shift around, the sounds moving further away from him.
Good. While it probably won’t do much to help, at least it gives him a split second longer should they go for him… Gods, the entire need for me to even consider that a good thing is so damned messed up.
The spider came forwards suddenly, their movement a blur, and before he knew it, one of their hands was lifting him by the neck, his feet kicking in the air as he grabbed their wrist to ease the pressure a bit.
“Keep talking, little fly, and see what happens.” There was a twinkle of something in their eyes, something wicked and calculating.
“Oh, will I now, you absolute la-mph!” Wels had been anticipating either another kick, a punch, or something else that would hurt him, like maybe a hit with the metal as a makeshift club. Instead, they had balled up the fabric, shoving it into his mouth as he spoke. They followed it quickly by grabbing his wrists in one hand, keeping them in place as they used the other two of their hands to press the metal band against his lips. A series of clicks and hisses emitted from their mouth, and Wels was aware of a vaguely green glow in his peripheral vision. Then, much to his worry, they started bending the band as though it was a twig. His eyes widened, and it took him a split second to compute what was going on before he actually started struggling against it. He moved his head as much as he could, his feet kicking as much towards the spider as he could manage.
“NO! Wels!” Scar yelled, and judging by the rattling of the chains, he had actually shot up to his feet and was in the process of coming closer. “Keep your hands off my friend!”
No, no, Scar, please, stay out of this, don’t let them do anything to you too, please, don’t let this be for nothing!
No matter how hard the knight struggled, though, he could feel how the band now pressed tightly against his cheeks and under his ears. He somehow, somehow needed to make sure they would not be able to finish this, or he wasn’t too sure about how this would come off. Judging by how seamlessly the collars all seemed to fit together… Well, this would probably not be much different than that. Not if it was done by the same creature, in the same way. At the very least, he assumed it was done in the same way, he had no memory of the moment he had been outfitted with his collar.
If only I could just use my hands… That might help, but…
Wels let one hand go of their wrist, then tried to very carefully slide it out from their hand. The trouble was that they were putting quite some pressure on it, and the moment he had slightly relaxed his wrist, their grip had tightened. Next up was trying to somehow twist his wrist out of their hands. The knight knew how it worked with humans and other humanoids of his own size, but the question remained how well that translated to a creature that was quite a bit larger than he was. Nevertheless, he could only try, he had to try before they finished putting on their makeshift gag.
First up, locating the thumb. That generally was the weak point, the finger that would give first if he turned from under it. That part was easily said, and easily done, and thus Wels stopped struggling for one moment to focus on getting an arm free.
Breathe in, breathe out. You have one chance, don’t blow it.
Wels exhaled powerfully as he tried twisting his wrist out from under their thumb, keyword being ‘tried’. It didn’t budge in the slightest, and the only thing he achieved was the feeling of claw sinking just a little bit into the skin of his arms.
At the same time, he felt how the two ends of the metal band met and then merged together, trapping his braid underneath it and securing the fabric in his mouth.
“Mrrgph!” He tried getting out an expletive to show how much he was not enjoying his situation, but makeshift or not, the gag did what it was intended for.
“Ah, isn’t that better, little spider-to-be?” They almost purred the words to Scar as they forced Wels’ heads to this side and that side, admiring their work. From the corner of his eye, he saw the landscaper, still smiling that fake smile.
“Yes! No, wait, I mean no!” Scar frowned, sending a helpless gaze to Wels, knowing full well that this situation wasn’t good in the slightest.
“Hmm… Almost. You’ll get there. And what about you, little fly? Don’t you enjoy the silence?” Arachne forced him to look at them, and in return he mustered the foulest expression he could manage.
“Hmmrrgh!” he growled at them, the sound muffled behind the metal band.
“Excellent. I’ll get rid of that once you accept my mark. Until then… I suggest you behave, little fly. Else… Well. Won’t it be fun to find out together?” Their face twisted into a grin as they let him fall to the ground without warning. As a result, he hit the ground hard, wincing as he did so. His eyes found theirs, his gaze full of hatred for them and everything they stood for. His hands had already found their way to the metal band, trying to pry it away or somehow lift it up enough to get the fabric out of his mouth, neither of which worked. The band was just too tight, with no give at all. If he pulled at it on one side, he just felt it digging into his skull on the opposite side. It was very frustrating for him, but apparently very amusing for the spider, a chuckle coming forth from their mandibles.
Well. This is… Bad. I can’t get it loose, and as long as that thing is on, I’m not sure if I can speak. I- No. No, no, no. I can’t properly help Scar like this. I need my voice for that, either sung or spoken. This… Damn. They’re really having me watch helplessly as he turns, don’t they?
They kept watching him as he tried every possible angle, but the band would not budge. In the end, he had to give up, dropping his hands to his sides as his eyes were seething. In return, Arachne just stared, their grin widening. Then, without saying another word, they turned around and left.
It was only when they were completely out of sight that he let his head hang. The one good thing was that they hadn’t hurt Scar directly. The bad thing was that this was possibly even worse.
“You okay there?” came the landscaper’s question. Wels balled his hands to fists.
No, no I’m not okay, how can I be? But I can’t tell you that. I must stay strong. I must, I must, I must.
He took a moment to regain composure, breathing out and in again as he did so. Then the knight turned around to face Scar.
“Mmhmm,” he hummed, nodding his head. It was the best he could do right now, and he already didn’t like it. Had he had quill and ink, it wouldn’t have been such a problem, but right now… It certainly was.
“Are you… are you sure about that?” Scar looked more than a bit worried, and Wels wanted nothing more than to say no. Instead, he simply raised a thumb, before pointing at the other man, and questioningly tilting his head to the side.
“Yeah, I’m… I’m fine. Don’t worry about me for now, okay?”
The knight sighed and nodded. This situation was going to take some time to get used to.
That other voice in his head had been gone for so long, and now it was back. He heard it, gently trying to make its way past him, past his place, in a careful, half-hearted attempt to get in front, back in the driver’s seat. The servant had to wonder; didn't he know? Didn't he know what had happened last time? Didn't it remember what he had to go through when his liege had found out? Really, that was not something he would like to repeat, not in the slightest. And so, with a well-aimed shove he just tossed him right out once more.
It wasn't like that other voice was really trying anyway, it was just token resistance at that point, nothing he couldn't handle. He didn't even have to speak up or do anything to strenuous, it was almost as easy as simply shaking a thought from his head. Easy. Fast. Methodical. Just how he liked it.
And then the voice was gone again, tucked away in the trashcan of his programming where it belonged. It was right, this way. This was how it was supposed to be. The servant in charge of this body of metal and wires, not whoever that other voice was he heard every now and then. This way, he could serve. This way, he could do as his liege asked, when his liege asked. This way, he could possibly break out of his bonds, getting away from this all. It helped that they had left him alone in there once more, it gave him some more space to work with without being spotted.
Just like that, he carefully started moving once again. If he could get just one of his arms loose, he would be able to free himself. If only he could reach his swords... His eyes wandered to his hips, where his scabbards usually hung. This time, though, they didn't. Instead, he found them laying on a bed at the other side of the room. Cool and calculating, his gaze then glid over to the door, through which he could see a dot of orange hair standing in place. That was an issue. Anything too loud would alarm them of something going on, and that was not something he wanted to happen.
Hmmm...
He leaned to the side of his chair as far as he could, looking down at its legs. They seemed to have been bolted to the floor, which was a shame. Had it not been, he would have been able to just move the chair to where he needed to be with his feet and some well-timed little hops. Another possible plan down the drain, that was. However, as he came to sit up once more, the sensors in his shoulders and back notified him of something still dangling from the ports in his neck. Something long and thin, probably wires judging by their weight and location.
I could use that, maybe. How, though... I should first get them out of there, in any case.
The servant once more leaned to the side his ports were on, letting the wires dangle before violently turning his neck and shoulders in an attempt to get them more to his front side. It didn't quite work the first time, but it seemed like he had some time at the very least, and so he tried again. And again, and again, and again, until at long last the wires ended up where he needed them to be. Next up was the question how he was going to actually grab them, because that would be a little bit tricky. He couldn't lean forwards far enough to hang the wires into his reach, the ropes wouldn't allow it, and he wondered with how much accuracy he would be able to propel it forwards. Maybe, just maybe he would be able to catch it if it passed by his hand. Then again, that hinged on him being able to move it that far forwards. The servant had the feeling that it might well be very difficult or impossible to get that to work, and his internals didn't give him the highest chance of success either. Then again, there was a chance for success, and that was all he needed. He had time, he could just keep trying until he either succeeded or until those pesky Hermits came back to do more of their tests on him. Really, and they called him the evil one.
The servant aligned his neck with his hand as well as he could, before jerking forwards. The wires lifted off his chest briefly, but nowhere near far enough for him to grab hold of them. It told him that he needed to give the wire more momentum in some way, if he could. Either that, or he needed to move his hands further backwards. The question was how he could do that, though, seeing as they had bound his arm to the armrest at two places, allowing only the slightest of movements more to the back. Still, a little bit of movement was better than no movement at all, and it might just give him that single centimetre he needed.
Once more, he jerked his torso forwards, the wires whipping into the air. They seemed to go higher this time, more towards his goal, which was good. Now to make this method more efficient... There had to be something he could do. Something, anything. Rotation? Would it help if he added some shoulder rotation into it, to make it move more horizontally to his hand? There was no shame in trying it out, it could well be the way to make it work. His eyes went to the door once more, but the orange hair hadn't moved a single bit since he started trying, which was good. It meant its owner hadn't yet realised what he was doing.
Again, he got ready, this time making sure the wires actually laid on the opposite side from the hand he was trying to catch them in. Then he took a moment to redo calculations, ensuring he had the right angle and everything before trying again. They came against the bottom of the armrest with a soft tick, and the servant sighed.
So close. Again.
He once more went and carefully moved the wires to be at the other side, and for the first time he started wondering whether the wire was even long enough to catch. He sure hoped it was, otherwise all this was for nothing. Nevertheless, the only way to find that out was to keep trying, and either to succeed or to try again. It wasn't like there was anything else he could do right at that moment, so he'd rather just keep going at it.
Again, he jerked his torso and shoulders forwards, already knowing more or less how this should be working. He was starting to become practiced in the movements, although he hadn't got the precision down to a t yet. Still, that would come. Once more, the wires ticked against the armrest, a little bit higher this time. From what he could judge right at that point, it seemed like it would be possible to do it, he should be able to catch it, but it was difficult to say with the angle he was working at.
Again.
From that point forth, he got stuck in a rhythm of moving the wires from one side to the other, and then whipping them through the air. While it had been easy enough to figure out a way to get the wires as close to his hands as possible, the problem was still that the movements weren't refined enough, and as expected, the last twenty percent of accuracy cost most time. He knew he was going to be able to get this to work at some point, but he also knew it would probably take a while to get there. Not that it bothered him too much, he was used to waiting.
The servant kept moving his body, adjusting his movements minimally each time to get the wires closer and closer to his hand up until the point where he could start trying to grab it. It was a tad difficult because of the angle his wrist was tied in, but he still had some movement that he could use in order to get it done. Now, however, the difficulty switched from aiming right to timing it right. After all, he could hit his hand with the wire all he wanted, but if he didn't close his fingers around it at the right time, it would just fall down once again. It cost some time to get that right as well, with him either grabbing too early, when it wasn't close enough yet, or grabbing too late, after the cable had already slipped down. It was perhaps more frustrating than getting the aim correct, but it was just something the servant would have to deal with. After all, he could only stop trying this once he had actually caught the wire. Or, perhaps, when the Hermits came back and forced him to stop. He didn't hope for himself to be done by then, but it would be nice. And given that they had been as stupid as to leave his weaponry in the room with him... Well. If he managed to sneak up on the person standing guard, he would let them know what a bad idea that had been. He would happily come out and send that person to his liege, and after that... After that, the others. All of them, one by one. Gone, killed, downed, marked, converted. That would satisfy his liege most, and thus by association him as well.
The servant continued shifting and moving, the cables almost in constant motion until at long last, he managed to catch one. Just on the end of it, just between his fingertips, but he had it nonetheless. He immediately stopped what he was doing, to ensure he wouldn't accidentally drop the wire or pull it from his grasp or something similar. Really, that would be bad, after all the time he had spent so far on getting it into his hand.
He carefully moved his fingers around to shimmy the cable up a little bit further, to get a good grip before testing how sharp the various sides of it were. The tip of the plug seemed like his best bet, given that that was the pointiest bit of the entire thing, but in this shape, it wouldn't help him too much.
Still, a piece of metal is a piece of metal. I can use it, if I can just manage to shape it into something better... Hmm.
For a moment, he considered the plug and the wire, trying to figure out what he could do with it. One option was always to just repeatedly rub it over the armrest he could reach in order to sharpen one of the sides a bit more, but the issue with that was that it would probably take hours to do. On the other side, he knew a wire such as the ones plugged into his neck could carry electricity, and if he played this right, perhaps he was able to create a spark. A spark that could land on the rope and set it aflame. It would most definitely do some damage to him as well, but if he managed to get loose just the one rope, he would be able to manually untie the others.
At the very least, that was his hypothesis for now. Whether and how that would work were the next questions. That, and the question as to how he could power that specific cable. It would probably have been easier had he known what port the cable was plugged into, and even then, only barely. The trouble was that while he could very carefully and precisely move his body, he did not have such control over his internals, including the power supply. He needed outside help for that, at the very least, right now he did. The easiest way to get it done right there at that moment would be to press a specific sequence on the buttons on his chest, but he couldn’t reach those. The servant looked around, knowing fully well that he would not able to just get up and get something to help. It was more of an instinct, a nagging feeling at the back of his brain that caused him to do so. The path his eyes followed was calculated and mechanical as he scanned through the room. It was only when he saw a hint of green underneath the bed that he stopped and grinned.
This will help, certainly. But… How long has it been there, spying on me? Does my liege know?
Despite his questions, he kept his eyes on the creature as he motioned with his free hand for it to come closer. It took a few seconds, but then it came skittering out from under the bed, making a beeline for the wall, running over it to come closer. He just had to assume that it knew who he was, or at the very least, that it was able to distinguish friend from energy. That would be nice if it did that, at the very least. The question was simply if it could help him, and how. But that was a next problem to figure out, for now it was most important that it got over to where he was. After that he could figure out a way for the spider to be of help. There might be a button that needed pressing, or perhaps, in the worst case, it could cause some short circuiting in his internals that would cause some electricity to find its way via the cable to his wrist. At the very least, that's what he thought, it could well be that the spider itself had different ideas.
It scurried towards him now, quickly climbing up one of the legs of the chair. Then it found itself a way onto his arm, and then onto his hand, where it turned around and looked him straight in the eyes. The servant squinted.
"Are you here to aid me?" he asked softly, such that the guard at the door would not hear him speak. The spider, in return, clicked a few times, and he knew that he should take that as a yes. So now the question was how it would do so. After all, while it was by no means a small spider, it was also not as big as the most common ones. Just about the size of his head, perhaps, large enough to clearly be able to see its mandibles and eyes.
"I need to get rid of the rope. In order to do that, I need you to do three things. First off, you need to find out which port this cable”- he wiggled the cable he was holding -“is plugged into. They should be numbered.” A moment longer the spider looked at him, before crawling up his arm, over his shoulder and to the side of his neck the cables were coming out of. Its steps were barely heavy enough to be registered by his sensors, but it was there anyway, almost as though a light breeze was going over it.
I hope that spider’s able to read… he thought as he tilted his head to the side, giving the arachnid some space to work with. In the worst case, he could always ask it to trace the number in the air. That would probably work. It wouldn’t necessarily be the best kind of communication, but it was better than nothing. The servant patiently waited, his eyes focussed on the door and the guard.
If they look around, they’ll find out what I’m doing… Best not to give them any reason for that. They’ll only realise what happened when they open their eyes to behold the magnificence of my liege, not a second sooner.
His thoughts were broken up by seven soft clicks in rapid succession, before he registered the spider as walking down his arm once more. It seemed curious as to what to do next, even tilting its head as it looked at him.
“Take this plug and stick it between the ropes closest to my hand. The end needs to be touching my arm.” Once again, the spider happily skittered away to do what was asked of it. It bit into the isolated part of the plug before the servant let go of it, and then carefully dragged it over to the rope binding. Then it started manoeuvring to get the plug where it needed to go, using its legs to push and pull at the ropes, just enough for the end of the cable to fit through. It was a slow process, a lot slower than figuring out the port number, but then again, this needed to be precise, and very much so. If there was too much space between the plug and the metal of his arm, there would be no short-circuiting and thus no spark or heating up. If there was too much space between the plug and the rope, it would fall down, and the rope would not burn. And so, the servant had no real choice but to wait once more, his gaze exchanging positions between the door and the spider. The coast still seemed clear.
He felt the tiniest of static shocks a split second before the spider finally got the cable where it needed to be. One of his fingers twitched slightly, but that was perhaps the only way he showed it bothered him in the slightest. He focussed on the spider’s movements for now, seeing how it pushed at the rope a bit to make some of it lay flush against the metal part of the plug. It made it scrape against his arm, which was not in the slightest a pleasant sensation, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. It was still nicer than what his liege would do to him should they find out he had failed.
“Good. Lastly, I want you to press a specific sequence of buttons on my chest. It is very important that you do this exactly as I tell you to,” he stated at the lowest volume his speakers could output. The spider seemed to look at him for a moment. Then the servant went and explained the sequence as best as he could, just to make sure the spider knew roughly what was going to have to happen next. Whether or not the spider understood or remembered all of it was the next question, but honestly, he would just repeat the steps as it was doing them.
The spider did then indeed make its way onto his chest, making the servant awkwardly look down to be able to see what was going on. He just had to hope the guard at the door kept being as clueless and bad at guarding as they had been so far, because once buttons started being pressed, he would rather not have that stopped before the end goal was reached. Who knew what kind of bad things would happen to his software if it did. The spider sat and looked him straight in the eyes, as though it was waiting for something, and the servant realised he needed to start the sequence.
"Top right," he said, and the arachnid followed it with a press immediately. It seemed to struggle with it a little bit, which he understood, but it had to be done.
"Second line, third from the left."
Press.
"Fourth line, first from the left."
Press.
He went through the entire sequence, up until the last one, and the spider seemed to be managing just about fine with following the instructions given.
"Last one: Bottom right." Immediately after he had said it, he put his teeth together, knowing full well that what was about to come would not be something he'd enjoy. Something painful. And indeed, as the spider pressed the necessary button, he felt electricity flowing out of his neck, hitting his arm a split second later.
Where the static shock had been enough to make a finger twitch, the amount of power currently flowing through the small spot where the two metal pieces met felt like it was burning, as though someone had spilled lava onto him. He noticed his sensors giving off warnings, but the servant pushed those away as he squinted at the bit of rope.
Come on, burn. It has to. It feels so warm, this cannot take long.
His arm was shaking and twitching about as much as the ropes allowed for, and soon the twitchiness spread through the rest of his body parts as well. It made the plug scrape over his skin once more, in unpredictable patterns of burning hot metal. And yet, still the rope was not catching on. And this was already the highest amount of electricity he was able to send through the port without ruining it, so making it go even higher was not really an option, not unless he got desperate enough. And that was something he didn't do, getting desperate. That was something for humans and other humanoids made of flesh and blood. Not him, never him.
At last, his smell sensors reported the vaguest whiff of something burning, and a second later, he saw a glow emerge on the rope next to the plug. The glow became brighter and brighter as more and more energy flowed through the cable, until it was a bright white.
For a moment, it seemed like nothing more would happen.
Then, the rope burst into flame, and a satisfied grin appeared on his face.
Time to show these Hermits the errors in their ways.
It seemed like it took ages for the hum of the drone to come closer and then leave once more. The desire to go and look was certainly there, but he knew he shouldn’t, even though it was tempting. Despite that, though, it was a lot more desirable to stay below the radar until the last possible moment. He didn’t want his brother to know he got out up until the moment he did the same thing he had done. Oh, Evil X could almost imagine the look on his face when he did. The hurt. The betrayal. The disbelief. The fear. Exactly those things he had felt in That Moment. Exactly those things he never wanted to feel ever again. If they were going to call him the evil one, he would make sure he deserved that title, and if they didn’t want that… Well. They’d better start using a name that didn’t define him by his brother.
Without him consciously choosing to do so, his hands had found some of the hay, and were now in the process of systematically plucking them apart. Just the sensation of actually feeling and touching something made him feel more at ease, and the mindless destruction of something small and insignificant helped quell the flame of anger and hatred that was growing brighter in his chest. It didn’t quite smother it, but still… It fed it just about enough to stay at a manageable candlelight size.
Ex was deep in thoughts, so much that the realisation that he was missing the hum of the drone came a few minutes after it had left. He blinked a few times as he zoned back in, not entirely sure how that had happened.
Then again, it was probably an artefact of the place he had been stuck in. There wasn't much more to do there than to think while looking at psychedelic shapes in one way or another, and that habit seemed to have carried over. Except that there were no psychedelic patterns of light and matterless matter here, there was just hay he could find interesting shapes in. Whatever the reason, it was probably something he needed to pay some more attention to as long as he was here on his mission. Zoning out at the wrong time was a bad thing, probably, mostly because contrary to the place he had been in, the Overworld did in fact have dangers and things that could hurt or even kill him. That was also something he hadn't experienced in a while, being hurt. Not physically anyway. There hadn't been anything physical in that other place.
As he noticed he was thinking on a tangent again, Ex shook his head to return back to the there and then.
Alright then, I have things to do. First things first... To find my dearest brother, and to figure out where he has left my communicator. It's mine, I need to get it back before I can even try to send him to that other place. After that... I'll see that when I get there.
He looked around to check his surroundings. Now that he was looking a bit better, he was able to spot a few places where there was a hole in the floor, with a ladder poking through it. From further below him, he could hear things move about, footsteps, and something that sounded a lot like breathing or whinnying, or something that was right in between the two. The word 'horse' popped up in his mind without him prompting it, and he spent another few seconds wondering where that word had come from and what it would look like. Of course, he knew what horses were, but still. He felt like it was a green word, with some hints of white here and there, but he didn't quite know why he thought of it that way. For a moment, he blinked.
That's not what I should be doing right now. There's a time and a place for everything, but this isn't it. Come to think of it, what IS time, really? How do we know it really exists? Like... I'm on a tangent again. Stop that.
He sighed. Now that he had time one more to sit in peace and just think, he found himself just drifting off without the need or desire to. He had a mission, after all.
"Right. Find X. Kick him out of the Overworld. Profit."
With his resolve strengthened, he stood up, brushing the hay remains from his clothes and armour. He stuck close to the wall, seeing that the closest ladder hole was either on the opposite side of the room, or on the opposite side of the tracks, and he'd really rather not come near anything that had to do with redstone. He did not understand the stuff, and too many things had happened that were related to it. While the rails were probably just that, simple rails, he still didn't trust it. It could be a trap, for all he knew. He didn't quite sure know why or how, but it could be, knowing his brother.
He breathed out and in again, to calm his nerves a little bit. He moved across the room, first peeking out through the way he had come in, to make sure there was no one there, before quickly running to the other wall, where he made his way over to the ladder as fast as he could. While there was no one watching him, he would still feel better if he was further down, where he had more opportunities to run away, in any direction he wanted, without having to worry about falling down one story or anything like that. That seemed better than just staying where he was. Descending the ladder felt a little bit strange at first, but it seemed almost normal again once he reached the floor below. The horse noises sounded louder now, and as he looked to his right, he could actually see a few creatures that looked horse-like enough. That was, if horses didn't have skin or muscles or hair. These horses seemed... Well, malnourished wasn't really the right word in this situation, seeing that these creatures were composed entirely of bone. Nevertheless, they still moved, despite an obvious lack of muscles or tendons to move them, which was... Well. There were stranger things in the world, but not many of them. The one good thing was the fact that there was actually saddles and reigns on them. Which meant he could probably use those things as transport, if he so wanted to. And the case happened to be that he was looking for some form of transport that was faster than running everywhere by foot. That would probably get really tiring really quickly. He didn't like the idea of going by minecart, and the Nether... Well. He had seen enough of places that weren't the Overworld for quite a while, he'd rather not go out there. This was already a little bit overwhelming on the senses, he couldn't imagine what the Nether with its hot air and sulphur smell would feel like. It was not something he wanted to find out right now. The only dimension he could probably make an exception for was the End, because that was a little less stimulating. Then again, that also looked too much like the place he had been in for a while, and it didn't quite feel right to go back there and stare into the Void or something.
The horse whinnied, and he realised he had been standing and staring again. The horse was staring right back at him with its hollow, eyeless skull, but somehow he still felt its gaze prickling on his skin. It seemed like it wanted to get out of there, or at the very least, like it didn't mind in the slightest if it would stay there or be somewhere else. It seemed almost like an invitation, and that was a thing Ex accepted all too eagerly. The only problem was that he wasn't too sure if he had ever ridden a horse, but those were details. It could never be that hard, now could it?
He opened up one of the fence gates that lead into the skeleton horse's little stable partition, and the animal immediately came a little bit closer, seemingly sniffing at him to figure out who he was or where he came from. It was nothing he was particularly worried about, but it wasn't something he enjoyed a whole lot either. Especially because he had places to be, and this stable wasn't one of them. Speaking of stables, that word was resoundingly brown, he found. Again, his brain failed to deliver any reasoning as to why it thought that, but it did do it anyway. In the end, he just kind of pushed the head of the horse to the side before climbing onto one of the fences surrounding it so he could climb into the saddle. Something the horse seemingly had some issues with, given that it started shifting around quite a bit, but it wasn’t enough to make him fall. His feet found the stirrups as his hands grabbed the reigns. That part felt natural enough to him. The question now was how the rest of this worked. He repositioned his feet a little bit and the horse moved forwards suddenly, and in response to that he pulled on the reigns, making the horse stop again, just in front of the fence gate.
Huh, so that is how that works… Interesting.
Ex leaned down a little in order to reach the second fence gate to open that one up too. The horse seemed a little bit too big to get through just one of them. Speaking of the horse, it shifted underneath him, making him almost fall off, but he just in time managed to hold onto its spine.
“Do that again and I’ll…” He started the threat, but there really wasn’t anything he could come up with that seemed fitting enough for a literal skeleton of a horse. Besides, it made him realise how harmless he was right now. He had no sword – sky blue, his brain helpfully supplied – nor a bow – grey – to help him fight, and his armour wasn’t quite as functional as it looked like. Sure, it could take a blow, but iron or diamond would still be better. He didn’t like it, this harmlessness. He was used to being seen as a threat, but that was back when he still had his communicator, and with it, his privileges. Back then, people knew they should be afraid or at the very least wary of him. Right now, though… Unless his brother hadn’t told him what had happened, they would know he could do nothing. And frankly, he didn’t think the chance of his brother not being smug about what he had done was all too big.
That flipping ‘perfect’ brother of mine… If they knew him like I did, I doubt they’d still look the same at him.
The horse neighed at him, reminding him that he was supposed to be doing something. As a response, he moved his feet once more, and indeed, the horse started moving forwards. Maybe not entirely smoothly, especially not with him half using the reigns to stay upright and the horse reacting to that, but it was close enough. Eventually he would get it right. For now, though, it was acceptable to just be moving. Even with the random stops and speed changes, it still felt faster than it would if he would just be walking.
And so he rode off, simply following the road, away from the large purple and grey buildings. He had someone to find.
He hadn’t moved an inch, not even after they had left him alone. On the one hand, he really wanted to see what had happened to his friends, on the other side… Bundled up like this, it felt safe, even though some of the fabric of his suit kept sticking to his wounds. Then again, as long as he stayed still, he barely noticed that. It just hurt when he moved and he accidentally unstuck some. That stung. A lot.
Because of that, Python just didn’t move. It was pain control, really, or an attempt at it anyway. He was still holding his hands out, to the bit of space in front of him, though hidden behind the knees he had pulled up as far as they’d go. He really didn’t want to look at them, although that currently was the source of most of his agony. He had thought it couldn’t get much worse as they had brought his fingers to their mouth and had torn them off one by one, but it had only started hurting more ever since. Python was painfully aware of every heartbeat that reached there, as he felt his hands slowly grow warmer and nausea spread through his system.
They did something more. I don’t know what, but they did something.
He winced a bit as he shifted a little bit, turning his eyes more towards Iskall and Ren. They were out cold, they had been for quite some minutes now, and he didn’t like it, nor did he like the coats they were wearing or the green lines spreading over their bodies. The same coat and lines as Grian had. Would they still be themselves when they woke up? Or would they be different, changed for the worst? After a bit, he averted his eyes once again. Perhaps they had all made a mistake when judging the situation previously. Perhaps he should have just given in, so that the other Endbusters didn’t have to. Perhaps he should have taunted the spider more, get them far enough to hurt them into a respawn, to give the others some time to think or to discuss. Options, options, options. And yet, no way to know what would have happened, what could have been.
It didn’t matter anyway. This was the reality they had to live in, for now, not one of the optimal scenarios. He retracted his face a little bit, tucking it behind his knees once more.
It is safe now. They aren’t here. They can’t hurt me now. I can rest a little bit, get back some of my energy and heal.
Speaking of getting back energy, despite everything, his stomach was gurgling again. He would have thought it would stay quiet for a while longer, but it was practically begging for food. Python knew he wouldn’t really heal a lot if he couldn’t get some food in him, and he knew there was food in the room. His eyes found their way over to the plates with sludge, and it didn’t seem quite as revolting as it had half a day earlier. Or, at the very least, he assumed it had been half a day earlier. Still, it didn’t seem anywhere near inviting either, and that was perhaps a good thing. It made it easier to say no to it, to not touch it at all. The same thing went for the nausea as well.
A cramp suddenly shot through his right hand, closely followed by another and another. Then it started shaking a little as well. Randomly, just little tremors, and if he focussed on them, he could make them temporarily stop. It didn’t strike him as too odd at that point, and Python could easily attribute it to pain and being scared. Nevertheless, it made him look at his hands, maybe more out of curiosity than out of anything else.
His eyes widened. The edges of the little stumps were an angry, sickly green, and they had swollen up even further. It did not look good, not by any means of the word. Literally the only positive thing he could see was the fact that they had stopped bleeding.
Another set of cramps went through his left hand, and before too long there were tremors there as well. The ones in his right hand had even started coming down his arm, as did the heat coming from the wounds. It grew hotter with the second, at the very least, that’s what it felt like, but at the very same time a shiver went down his spine, as though he was cold. Slowly, ever so slowly, the pain from whatever was in those wounds started to overtake that of the wounds themselves. It started out as dull, slightly noticable, but it became sharper and sharper as time ticked on. Python stared at it, unsure about what it could be that had caused it, until his eyes widened further in realisation.
Venom. It has to be venom. They bit me, didn't they?
His discomfort grew further as he realised it had probably been too long since the stuff had entered his veins. Too long for him to somehow get it out. For all he knew, it could have already spread through all of his body by now. It was not something he liked to think about, but given that the feelings he had in his hands spread further and further up his arms, it was probably the truth. And that was not something he liked a lot. He did not in the slightest enjoy being poisoned, even though he had always had some minor resistance against it. If what he was feeling right now was after taking that resistance into account, he really didn't want to know what it would feel like without any of that. The question as well was how much venom there was in his system. They had bitten him about ten times, but he didn't know if there was venom each of those times. If there had been... That would amount to a lot. A whole lot.
The snake man shook his head, ripping his eyes away from his hands, instead focussing on his friends. They too had their green bits, but they seemed different from what he had. It still didn't look healthy, not in the slightest, but those green lines on their bodies... Python was reasonably sure that that wasn't venom. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. It could still be some kind of poison that affected the mind, but he didn't know enough about that sort of thing to either prove or disprove it.
The nerves in his arms started whining all of a sudden. Both about it being too hot and too cold, feeling pressure on his skin but also not feeling anything, feeling pain, about the little bit of air movement the tremors caused, they were reporting everything that could possibly be reported. It was a lot of mixed signals, especially when his muscles started playing that game too, undoubtedly driven to it by his nerves. The tremors became worse, his arms now in constant motion as he started feeling them on his torso and neck as well. The hot feeling reached his shoulder, then his heart, and then it suddenly seemed to be everywhere, propelled forwards by a strongly beating heart. He could feel it in his toes but also in his face, just everywhere. Seconds later, the tremors followed, and Python couldn't help but feel jittery. His breathing became shallower as he tried to focus on something, anything that wasn't how he was feeling. Soon, nerves all over his body started following the example of those in his arms, and Python lost his sense of what was going on, what he was really feeling and what was just false reports from his body. Everything was so much at that point, he couldn't even quite distinguish between feeling pain and not feeling anything. The tremors became worse and worse, until they were no longer tremors but spasms, and even then, they only grew and grew. At some point, he found himself laying on the ground, his everything twitching uncontrollably as he saw dark blotches slowly appear in his field of vision. He was reasonably sure those weren't supposed to be there, but there wasn't much he could do about it.
What is happening to me? I don't... I don't like this, this has to stop, I want this to stop!
No matter what he thought, though, his body did not listen to him, and he started having issues focussing on what was there and what wasn't. The bits of his vision that weren't blotted out seemed wavy and woozy, as though he was watching the waves on the ocean rolling over each other. This wasn't the ocean, though, he knew it wasn't, and yet... It certainly felt like it. The blotches danced over and under and through everything, but especially over his body and those of his friends. It could have something to do with the blotches being basically the same colour as the ceiling and walls and floor, that was probably the sane type of reasoning, but he felt like it could also just be because the blotches liked the bodies.
The silence around him was deafening, even with the sounds he knew he had to be making. And through that silence came the sounds of a war drum, played by someone unable to keep rhythm in any way, shape, or form. The thundering sounds came seemingly whenever they pleased, always in duo's, never alone, and it took Python longer than he wanted to figure out that that was not, in fact, a war drum. Instead, it was his heartbeat, drowning out all other sounds, even his sounds of pain. At the very least, his throat told him he was making some kind of sound, and he was just going to assume it had to be pain, even though he couldn't pin down whether that was what he was feeling. Suddenly, the others were gone, and everything he saw was totally black and dark, as though the void had swallowed him whole. It did certainly look like it, at the very least. Blotches moved to show a length of chain dangling down from somewhere, hanging perfectly still save for some small twitches near the bottom end. He had to wonder where those came from, what caused those.
In his head, he was screaming, begging, crying for help and for it to stop. His mind went back to cows moving through a pasture, to a glass of white liquid, but he didn't know what it meant, why his mind seemed so desperate for that kind of thing. It seemed so familiar, so, so damned familiar, and he knew that it could make it all stop if only he had some of the stuff. Long, so long later - or had it only been seconds? He couldn't tell - the right words came to his mind, speaking of a beverage called milk, drank straight from the bucket. It could help, should help, needed to help, was the only thing able to. And he didn't have it.
Python felt his world shift once more, friends back in sight, as well as platters of goop and a bucket. His mind did what felt like an impersonation of an exclamation mark, and he Knew. He Knew he had to go to that bucket, somehow, that was what was going to help him.
Come on, body, move! Move! he thought to his already very much moving body. It wasn't quite going in the right direction, or in any direction at all, instead choosing to spasm in place. Nevertheless, at some point he had to have moved, as he suddenly found ground accelerating towards him, colliding with him in a relatively insignificantly small crash. It was something. Nothing that would really help him, but something anyway. Now, if only he could get his arms and feet underneath him, that would be great. Crawling wasn’t necessarily the most dignified way of moving, but it was still better than whatever it was he was doing at that point. The question was how much of a help crawling was going to be, and to what extent he would be able to. Despite how weird the rest of him was feeling, his hands felt like they were on fire, or as though he was dipping them in lava. And even if they didn’t feel like that, judging by what he could see and what he could make sense of, his hands and arms and legs and everything was just more or less moving randomly, without him specifically telling them to do so. Instead, his nerves were having a party, or so it seemed.
Bucket. Need to get to the bucket. Need to get milk. There has to be milk. Was there milk there earlier? If there isn’t any… I need to get some. This… No. I don’t want this any longer.
The thought struck him that he could, if he wanted to, if he managed to get his throat to listen, he could call the spider and ask for it. That thought seemed to lull a very short break in his situation, before it came back full force with the realisation that that was probably the dumbest idea he had ever had in his life. Of course he was not going to call them for something like that. They would just… They would probably enjoy standing there and watching him suffer, and in his opinion, they had done enough of that already. More than enough.
I got this. I don’t know yet how, but I got this. I just… Milk. Bucket. Come on, body, move!
Despite his strong desire to move, however, his body had the strong desire to not follow his orders. His vision shifted once more, this time turning such that specks and bits of red came into view. Some things that looked like peels, and some more that looked like either unnatural carrots or really thin beetroots. His first thought was that someone had been preparing some kind of vegetable soup in there, but it was not long afterwards followed by the realisation that those most definitely weren’t bits of vegetable.
He blinked a few times, his breathing shallow as he twitched around some more. He didn’t really want to think more about what those things were, or what they could have been. Python really just didn’t want to see any of that right now. He didn’t want to see anything, actually.
The fact that he could simply close his eyes was the first thing he actually enjoyed in a long – short? – while, and he had the vague thought that it could well be the last thing in that category for a while, or at least, as long as the venom was still in his veins. But that couldn’t last forever, now could it?
It was always good to see Doc’s beautiful face, but the news he brought was even better. The possibility to help someone, to cure someone? To help Biffa get back to being his beautiful self? That was even better, in his book. Even if the robot had stabbed him before, it was a good thing! Keralis wouldn’t even go and ask for him to apologise about it, because really, it wasn’t his fault. At the very least, he presumed so. If he didn’t take that one time he had gone on a rampage into account, Biffa never hurt friends.
“Wow, wow, wait, what? You managed to figure it out?” Xisuma had stood up, making very strong eye contact with the cyborg that had just come rushing in.
“Well… Not entirely, but I am quite sure I have a very workable angle right now,” Doc responded before glancing around and spotting Jevin. He seemed to tense up for a moment, but the second Jevin looked at him, the cyborg seemed to relax. It seemed he was taking the sudden reappearance a lot better than most, almost as though he knew something the others didn’t.
Keralis tilted his head, observing the cyborg. There didn’t seem to be any difference to how he had been before, with one black eye and one cybernetic red one. And at the very least there didn’t seem to be any green lines on his metal parts, though he couldn’t be quite sure about the green bits.
“Okay, so. I found it out more by accident than by debugging, but it seems like certain actions can trigger memories, that bring him back at the very least temporarily. I haven’t spoken to the quote unquote ‘real’ Biffa yet, not in a way where I said something and he responded to it, anyway, but there have been a few moments where he… Well, he seemed to remember who he was. Or perhaps remember isn’t quite the right word, not for the second time at least. That was more like the real him broke through the surface of the water, before getting sucked back into the depths.” He paused for a moment as he looked around to see whether the others had any kind of input. “I think we might be able to get him back if we can keep him on the surface for long enough, but I will need to find a number of memories I can either reproduce or trigger. Especially ones with some kind of physical stimulus will do, at the very least, it seemed that way when I accidentally spilled some tea over him.”
Across the table, he saw Xisuma squint.
“You did what with tea?” he questioned, before shaking his head and sighing. “Sorry, that was unnecessary. Force of habit. You know how serious I take my cuppa tea.”
Keralis had to do his best not to laugh or giggle. Oh, he knew all about that. Years ago, X had even been part of a tea-based secret service together with Biffa. Oh, times had been different then. So different, he would almost long back to that time. Almost.
“In any case, this seems like a major breakthrough. It also seems viable enough to actually be a workable solution, especially because there’s quite some people here that have known Biffa for years, and would share quite some memories,” the admin continued on. “Doc, I’m going to give you the lead on this one, seeing as you are the one that knows most about the debugging steps necessary to bring this to a successful end, if that’s alright with you?”
In return, Doc nodded.
“Of course. Still, just throwing it out there, if you have an idea for a memory we could test, do let me know after the meeting, so I can make arrangements and gather necessary supplies.”
Joe stuck up a thumb, while some others nodded or simply made some hums of agreement. It was just Stress that spoke up with her trademark cheerfulness.
“Yes! I’ll try and think of sum things, luv.”
Keralis himself nodded vigorously as well, wholeheartedly wanting to get back one of his oldest friends.
“Well, that’s decided then. Doc, are you joining for the rest of the meeting as well? We were just discussing what kind of supplies we have arranged so far, and what we might still need.” Xisuma gestured towards one of the empty chairs, and Doc once again nodded.
“I think I safely can. Biffa is secure and guarded, and there isn’t any debugging I can do without more input.” He then went and sat down. The admin’s focus once again shifted to Keralis.
“Right. You were saying something about rockets, weren’t you?”
The wide-eyed man stood up.
“Yes, yes indeed. We had no real end goal, so we just kinda kept on rolling them. I think we had about… Two full shulkers, in the end? It should get us quite far, if not all the way over there. Even further if not everyone would be going, because that would mean more rockets per person. Is that enough?” He tilted his head as he looked at the admin, followed by a quick glance over the other present Hermits. It was a shame Grian wasn’t there, really, because if anyone knew things about flying, it was him. Then again, if Grian and the others were still here, this entire operation wouldn’t be necessary.
“It should be, though we might want to calculate an estimate. Thank you, Keralis. Now, for the food. Do we have enough?”
Impulse was once more the person to stand up.
“I know we cooked up quite some meat, and while I was trading with the villagers for the enchanted books and such, I took some time to exchange some golden carrots as well. I guess… About half a shulker? I would have tried to get more, but they were slow about the restocking.” He shrugged, knowing there wasn’t too much he could’ve done about it barring just getting more villagers to trade with, as if that wasn’t an enormous hassle.
“Some more would have been preferable, but given that this is supposed to be a rather quick in and out… It’ll do. Potions?”
It was Tango’s turn to speak up this time, but his expression already betrayed the fact he had some less than optimal news.
“While we managed to get quite a few potions of healing done, we didn’t have enough ghast tears for making a lot of regen potions. Really not a lot. We did however brew up quite some night vision potions, even some in the splash variety for maximum efficiency. Same goes for swiftness.”
“When you say ‘really not a lot’, how many do you mean?” came a question from Mumbo. “I know their effects don’t really stack, but… Well, you know. More is better, in this case.” The demon sighed, pressing his lips into thin lines.
“Three. We got three. We only managed to find one ghast tear in total, and we decided that it was better to focus on more buffs than to try and fight some ghasts in order to get more regen potions. I don’t like it either, but it is what we have to deal with for now.”
“That’s… Really not a lot, indeed. Hmmm. That’s pants.”
“Look, I don’t know how much time we still have before the raid is on, but if someone can deliver us more of the tears, we can probably brew up a batch or two.” He glanced around, looking for a response from any of his friends. Most, however, stayed silent, looking painfully aware of the fact that they, too, did not have ghast tears readily available.
“Well. It isn’t optimal, but as with the other resources, we can probably figure out a way to plan around it. That’s our only option at this point, I’m afraid we’re not really in the opportunity to go and hunt down ingredients. There’s simply no time. We will have to do with the things we have now. Does anyone have anything to add on this subject matter?” The admin made quick eye contact with all those present, until they had either shaken their head in response, or stated that they had nothing. “Good. With equipment and resources out of the way, it is time to begin with the actual planning for how this all is going to go. As a first step in that, though, I would like to give the word to Jevin. He has been inside of the enemy’s base, and as such, he should be able to give us some insights about it that we can use to our advantage.”
Keralis felt his eyes almost automatically finding the slime man, as did the others. Jevin, in turn, seemed to retract even further into his sweater. Tango gently laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, man, I know it is hard to think back, but it might just make the difference we need to be able to get the others out as well, alright?” he spoke in hushed tones, but not hushed enough to not picked up through the silence of the room. Jevin clenched his eyes shut for a moment, but then nodded anyway.
"That place... It has three levels that I know of. One is on top of an End island, and is the way in. Outside of the building, on the back, is a portal that seems to lead back to the Overworld. Besides that... Nothing of interest, really. Inside of the building is a staircase down, into the lair of that... that bastard. There's... There's doors on either side, and one of the ones close to the exit is actually their room. Or at least, I think so, I didn't go in or spend too long looking. There's also... Yeah, there is some kind of temple thing? It's in the corner of the main hallway. Further down it are more rooms, but I don't know what's there. I had to run past there. The first time, anyway, as Grian chased me, and-" he suddenly stopped talking as his eyes went vacant. His stare was a thousand yards one, and slowly but surely, a frown appeared on his brow. Keralis couldn't quite see it properly from where he was, but he also had the impression that Jevin had started shaking just a little bit, the wiggles propagating through his slime. Tango started rubbing his shoulder once more, this time muttering a few words of comfort under his breath.
On the other side of the table, however, Xisuma raised an eyebrow.
"Grian... chased you? That seems... Well, unlike him. Is he...?"
"Turned. On the enemy's side. I'm not sure what they did to him, but... He walked around freely. And he listened to... To... I tried to escape, I really did, but he was so much faster than I was and he caught me and-" The poor guy started hyperventilating as panic bloomed on his face. Stress seemed to be getting more worried once again, but Jevin wasn't done speaking. "And he tried to take away my communicator so I tried to shove it up my hand and... And... He knocked me unconscious, and I woke up in this... In this void cell? Everything was dark and there were no walls but there were walls and they were there and they demanded I handed over my communicator but I really didn't want to do that so... So..." Instead of speaking further, he raised his right arm a little bit, slowly rolling back the sleeve of his sweater until it was just under his elbow. Even from a distance, it was clear that the colouration of the slime was off. It wasn't the even sky blue the rest of him was, these bits seemed... Lighter, and a little bit less transparent. Almost as though those bits had dried in, or that something else had happened to them that really shouldn't have. Almost as though that part of him had been detached, in a way.
Stress gasped, and False looked even more unnerved than she had done before. Mumbo seemingly had some issues putting the puzzle pieces together, and Xisuma... Well. His face hardened, icy rage finding its way to his eyes. It was the only sign that something was going on inside that mind of his, but not even his visor was enough to completely obfuscate that. It was enough for the others to know that this was getting more serious now, despite it already being that.
"So, if I'm filling in the blanks correctly here, they tore of your hand to get it anyway?" the admin asked, trying to phrase it in a good way but failing. There was no real way to be subtle about this subject, not really. Nevertheless, Jevin nodded, before silently putting back his sleeve, without looking. The ice queen shot a glare at Xisuma before speaking up.
"And after that, luv? How did you get out?" Her tone was a lot gentler than that of the admin, and Jevin seemed to relax ever so slightly.
"I... I waited, I reattached what I could from my hand, and I just waited until I realised I could get out. You see, they... Well. They put this... this collar around my neck, to chain me down to the floor, I guess, but... They didn't seem to realise what I'm capable of, so I managed to slip out of there, and from there on... Well, the walls weren't really all walls, there was a false bit in one that I could just step out through. After that... Well. There was this hallway, with more doorways into more of those cells. I'm sure I heard people in at least two of them, but I didn't go and look which ones because I just... I just wanted to get out of there, you know?" he stammered, all the while not making eye contact with anyone or anything except for the table in front of him. Almost as though he was ashamed of what he was saying, or too sucked up into it to be really present in the present.
"Mmhmm, I get that, luv, no worries. And after that?" Stress continued to gently coax him into saying more, which was a bit easier since he was already telling things, remembering what had happened.
"Then I just... I started making my way out. There wasn't really a way out of that hallway other than a staircase up, and... yeah, up a staircase. The hallway there connected to that other hallway I mentioned earlier via a corner, and on this bit... Well, I know about two of the rooms. One of them seemed to be some kind of... Storage. But like, for food. Done in a more... spidery way. There were these almost human sized cocoon things hanging from large webs, and I really don't want to think about what could be in there. The other place in that hallway I've been to is sort of... Well, the welcoming room I'd call it. That's where I woke up when I died. Luckily there wasn't anyone there at that point, otherwise... Well, I don't know what would have happened otherwise. That's when I started my first escape attempt, the one Grian caught me on. Can I just say it was really strange, that? It was like... He was just walking around with that spider, following them around like a dog or a servant or a butler or something, and he must have noticed me, because he turned and looked at me with those... with those glowing green eyes and... but here's the weird thing, they seemed to stop glowing for a moment and he just... he gestured for me to leave? And then, a split second later, he betrayed me to that bastard anyway. I just.... I'm not too sure what to think of that, really." He still didn't look up from the table as he spoke. Just a few places away from him, though, Doc's eyes widened.
"Wait, the glow stopped?"
"Yes, or at least, I thought it did, but-"
"That is amazing news! It means... Well, I'm going of what I've seen with Biffa, and his eyes stopped glowing for a few seconds too, when I managed to get the 'real' Biffa behind the wheel for a few seconds. It means you managed to coax out the 'real' Grian too! The less amazing news, though... Well. It does mean they did the same thing to him as they did to Biffa, which is objectively bad, but the good thing is that we have theories on how to solve it," he rambled, gesturing wildly as he explained the seeming epiphany he had just had.
Jevin, in the meanwhile, did not look nearly as happy or relieved as Doc did. Instead, he nervously rubbed over his discoloured wrist, humming a tone of agreement. His eyes were still firmly focussed on the table, but his chin had been retracting back into his sweater. He seemed to be sunken in thought.
“Well, that most definitely was informative, more so than any of the scouting and searching we have been doing,” Xisuma started as he stood up. “We know the route in and out, as well as that the location is in the End. That should help us plan the raid even better. This also means we can more accurately calculate the amount of resources we need for the mission, which is a good thing. Jevin, is there anything more you think we need to know right now?”
The slime man shook his head in response.
“Excellent. In that case, I would say, go get some rest, friend. Rest and something to eat. Stress, are there still pancakes left by any chance?”
The ice queen immediately hopped to her feet, while Jevin just nodded tiredly, finally lifting his eyes to glance around the table.
“Well, not right now, luv, but I can make some, if you can miss me from the meeting?”
The admin seemed to think about it for a moment.
“Well, it would of course be best if you were here, but at the same time… Well. Hmm. Were you planning on joining the raid party?” he asked, rubbing his forehead. Stress wasted no time in shaking her head.
“Nope! Not at all. Them spiders make me feel really nervous, ya know? I’d be no good if we need to stand against one.” As she said that, Jevin perked up fully and cleared his throat.
“Um… Right. So uh, just to be clear, quite some of he walls on the second level are covered in cobwebs and spiders. Just uh… Just saying.”
This only evoked more vigorous headshaking from Stress.
“Nope. Not going. Nuh-uh. Sorry, but I’ll just wait here as support.”
Keralis couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle, as Xisuma nodded knowingly.
“That’s fair. Then I would say, go and make those pancakes, I’ll message you if you’re needed here, alright?”
“Yep, sounds good!” she said, basically performing a winking salute at X before going around the table to where Jevin was sitting.
“You coming, luv? There’s some cooking to be done.”
It turned out that having things to do was code for him having to stand still, waiting for his master to finish their looking. Sally didn't mind, though, not in the slightest. It was nice to just be able to stand there, knowing that he was at that point a little bit like a protector for his master, even though he doubted anyone would be as dumb as to attack them here, on their own terrain. Besides, he did not really have a weapon, but he was certain he could yell loud enough if something were to be the problem. It was not something he would do willy-nilly, but he could do it if he thought the effects outweighed the consequences. After all, he was quite sure they would not like it should he disturb them for nothing.
And so, he just stood. Watching, waiting, observing. The spot on the other side of the room, where another of the servants had stood earlier, was vacant, and Sally couldn't help but internally scoff. It seemed the other one had had failed his task, and he did not pity him for it. Not in the slightest. not if it meant he would fall into better graces with his master now.
His eyes moved over to where they were sitting in their large web, their eyes glowing red and looking into the distance. Their head moved a little bit, but mostly they were just sitting still, doing something the little spider only had seen the day before. What it was, he didn't quite know, but he knew it had something to do with how they seemed to know things, things that had happened in faraway places. Not something he would comprehend, probably, but that was okay. He was but a mere servant, and the difference in power only reinforced that. Sally then slowly looked back to right in front of him again, focussed on a little spot on the wall. Nothing in particular, that spot, just a little bit of rock that stood out about as much as a needle in a haystack would. That was to say, not much. It looked almost the same as any other spot on the wall, really. It was just nice to have something to look at as he mentally made a list of the amount of cleaning he still needed to do at the shrine.
Most of the dusting of the statue is done by now, although I do need to go over some parts once more to make them shine some more. The candle's still need to be replaced, and the old candlewax needs to be taken care of. What else...? It could use a little bit of sweeping too, probably. After that... Well. I'll see what my master has me do.
Sally straightened his shoulders and his back, noticing he had been slouching ever so slightly. That just wouldn't do, not at all, not in the slightest. For good measure, he also put his feet down a little bit straighter too. Just so that he would be at his most presentable the moment his master returned from the seeming trance they were in. Not standing straight was not something he wanted to be punished for. In general, he did not want for them to punish him, as he had seen what they were capable of, what they had done to those that opposed them. The little spider would rather not be one that experienced the same fate.
Time ticked on and on as he waited, the bit of wall he was focussing on slowly expanding until he was certain the block he had been staring at would haunt him in his dreams in perfect detail. Then, at long last, they stirred, more than a slight movement of their head this time. Arms stretched out, their legs following shortly one by one. Then the expression on their face turned ever so slightly sour, as though something had happened that they did not quite agree with.
"It seems the other little spider has found himself in quite the predicament... He will know how I feel about that when he returns." The words sent a shiver up his spine, so much bloodthirst was packed in their pronunciation. "I let our little friend on the other side know that more is expected of him as well, once he finds his way back to his bedroom. There are some more things that need to be taken care of, things that may better be done by one that can move around a bit more... freely. One with less suspicion on him."
Sally stayed silent through all of that, only averting their eyes from his master as they skittered out of the web and onto the floor in front of him. Again, he just waited, to see what they needed from him. Inside, though, the voice was playing up again. A voice that was confused about what was going on, one that had no idea what his master was talking about. The little spider didn't know either, but unlike the screaming gremlin inside him, he understood that some things just weren't for him to know, such as the identity of this ally they seemingly had. It was the first time he heard about it too, but he was certain that he would know once it was necessary for him to do so. The voice, however, did not agree with that, kicking and screaming to be let up and out, although that seemed to be noticeably weaker than the day before. It was not hard to push it away into a far corner of his mind, one he didn't care about, together with all feelings the voice brought with it. Sally didn't care about any of those. Sally did not worry for the people the voice seemed to consider as friends. After all, if they were not the subjects of his master, how could he consider them as being friends, then? Besides that, the little spider did not really worry in general, for there was no reason to. His master would supply certainty and safety, and good leadership above all. He had faith in the fact that they were meant to rule this world, and that they would get into that position sooner rather than later. And honestly, the earlier things changed, the better. Those pesky Hermits and their ideas and their urge to fight for their perceived freedom... Didn't they know it was all pointless, in the end? Didn't they know they would only truly be free if they subjected themselves to his master? He guessed they didn’t, judging by the fact that some of them were still refusing to be marked. It was a shame, really. What little he remembered from it, it was rather quick and painless, and well worth it in the end. It could be that all they needed was a little bit more... Well. Encouragement, to get it done.
Nevertheless, it was a good thing that two of the little flies in the basement had finally chosen the right path, the only true path. Now the question was how long they needed in order to realise they were in the right hands, and that there was only one creature worthy of their praise and servitude. His eyes were still on the ground in front of him as his master spoke directly to him.
"You have a task to do, little spider. Go and distribute the food under the little flies. None for the blonde one, though. He does not deserve such a thing. Besides, he couldn't eat it if he tried." Their voice was commanding, and he was not about to go against their orders. He didn't even question why one of them did not get food. If his master decided he didn't deserve it, then he didn't. It also had the positive side effect of it being less work for him, and as such, less time he had to spend dealing with the little flies and their seeming constant attempts to call him some name that wasn't his.
"Of course, master. At once." He bowed towards them, then headed for the door. Once he arrived there, he turned on his heels to bow to them once more, before shuffling outside backwards. His next objective was to go and find the ingredients for the food. He still found it interesting that the little flies did not seem to like what they were given, as Sally himself did enjoy the food that was served. Just the right texture too, and with a little bit of luck there was still some meat in there he could suck from the bones that were occasionally in there as well. It was a nicety if that happened, a thing he enjoyed. Even more so if the food came from a source that was a little bit more special and less bland than villager meat, but that was a rare commodity mostly reserved for his master. And he got it. Why spend something of that quality on mere servants, or even worse, flies?
Chuckling in himself the little spider found his way over to the storerooms to gather some plates and a tray to carry it on. If his calculations were correct, he needed to gather five plates, given that there were six little flies still locked up, and one of them had not deserved his food. No, wait, that was incorrect. He knew it had to be one less, still. Sally could still clearly remember the angry mutterings of his master on the way back to their room. One had escaped, somehow, and he was lucky that they had not seen that as a personal mistake he had made, even if he did do that himself. After all, apparently one of the flies seemed to have snuck past him as he was sleeping at the shrine, and that was something he should have noticed. Sally made a mental note to either not sleep later that day, or to only do so in short naps, to not let it happen again. He had been lucky once, and he did not want to test his luck against his master.
Inside of him, that other voice was laughing, almost in joy, as he was remembering the escapee. It wouldn't do. That kind of stance just really would not do, and so Sally once again pushed it to the side. Really, how long was that voice, that other person, going to continue bothering him? Why would it not just leave, as he had tried to force multiple times so far?
Nevertheless, he had gotten to the storeroom by that point, and was already rifling through some of the neatly organised chests for the things he needed. The tray was still there where he last left it, on the side of one of the barrels of stale water, and he found the plates easily enough as well. He did make a mental note to collect the plates that were still out there, in the basement, to clean them off before the next time he would go out to bring those ungrateful flies their food. Plates did not grow on trees, after all.
Neatly stacking the plates onto the tray, he then went over to a different storeroom, the ones where their food was stored in neatly wrapped parcels, hanging from the webs. Some were partially drained already, and he knew that those were the ones that should be emptied first. After all, it would make no sense to let perfectly good food go to waste, none at all. Sally made his way over there, ripping open part of the parcel as he held a plate underneath it. The delicious mush inside of it slowly came pouring out, about as fast as lava or thick mud would flow. To encourage it a little bit more, the little spider went and squeezed the parcel a little, forcing the meat mush out and onto the plate, as though he was emptying a tube of sorts. The parcel itself, or what would be left of it, would remain in the storeroom a little bit longer, for his master to enjoy as a snack in between, or as a vessel to slurp from. Either would work, really.
Once one plate was filled, he put it aside, bringing up the next one immediately. Sally would rather not see any of the food drop to the ground, that would be wasteful. After all, getting prey here and preparing it to be eaten cost a lot of time and probably some spiderpower as well. For him to be wasting such valuable things was not something he could talk straight, not even if he tried. Despite it, the urge to wipe up some of the mush from the edges of the parcels just to have a little taste of it was very presently there, even though his master had not given him the order to make some for himself as well. As if to prove a point, his stomach gurgled in agreement, but in the end, rationality won. He had not yet deserved the food, and by going and eating a little bit now, he might only be postponing the moment he would be allowed to eat. It was a gamble he was not going to make. Not only was it very disrespectful, he also did believe that his master would easily find out. They seemed to mostly be aware of what was happening in their lair, with the threads of their web every present in the hallways and rooms.
In the end, Sally just sent one last longing glance at the food, before finishing up putting it on plates and arranging those plates back onto his tray. It was better that there were only four plates this time, instead of the five it would have been, becayse these four proved to be enough to just about fill up the entire tray, leaving no room for more. It would have either meant doing a second trip down to the basement, or stacking one of the plates on top of the others, which would not only be wasteful but would also cause a mess. And Sally knew who would be cleaning up said mess, so it was better not to cause it in the first place.
And with everything prepared, he picked up the tray, and started moving to the cells in the basement. It didn't really matter a lot in which way he would hand out the food, given that the cells were not that far apart, and the food didn't weigh a lot either. Sure, there was something to be said about just giving it out with each door he passed, but ultimately, it didn't matter. He had a task, and he was going to get that task done.
It didn't take long for him to realise he had no idea where he was going. Sure, he had seen quite a bit of the island, but that had been Before. A lot seemed to have changed since then, judging by what he saw as he went down the road. The clopping of the hooves of his steed echoed a little bit between the houses and the trees around him, but the further he went, the less of an idea he had where he was. Usually, when he had been out here, he hadn't paid as much attention to his surroundings as he had put into keeping track of where his brother had gone so far. To stalk him, ever so slightly, until he had either been found out, or he could pull a prank, or until he could just mess with him in general. From the outside, that would probably look as though he was a bad person on purpose, but he generally never meant to hurt people with what he did.
Now though, now was different, very much so. This time, he was not there for simple tricks. This time, he was there for revenge for what X had caused. After all, Ex could not believe his brother sending him to that other place had been a prank, or his brother messing with him. If it was, he would have given him a way out. If it was, he would not have had to get out in the way he had been. Besides, Ex knew he had been banned, and that was not something anyone would do lightly. Banning someone was... Well. Given the nature of death and dying, it was almost automatically worse than that. It was not something he would wish on anyone, and yet... He could imagine it feeling quite good once he had managed to ban Xisuma, and then to forget about him.
He felt how his hands started shaking a little bit as his brows knit together in a frown. There was a hint of a smile on his face, though it was hidden by his visor and the various parts that directed good air into his direction. Yes. Vengeance would be sweet, it really would be, but it would also make him drop to the despicable level of his brother. And unlike his brother, Ex would actually unban X after perhaps a few days or so. Not because he particularly felt like he only deserved to experience that other place for that long, but because he wanted to show those friends of his brother that he was not half as bad as his brother had made him out to be. That much of what X had told them about him was in fact simply not true. That they would be better off with him instead of X. That he did not deserve to be called Evil, not unless provoked, in any case.
At least, that was what he would be doing if he actually knew where he was. The purple and white buildings had since made place for a bridge along the railway, and while Evil X distrusted it fully, he knew that following the rails would undoubtedly lead him to the centre of the island. And perhaps, if he was lucky, he would even find a map of sorts. He just needed to figure out exactly where he was in relation to his brother’s base. If he managed to get that down… Well. In his head, that was where he would have the highest chance of actually finding back his communicator, and Xisuma as well. Two birds, one stone, hopefully.
The white road under him slowly turned into a well-used dirt path that ducked under the railway. The two ways seemed to split up at that point, with the dirt path seemingly headed straight for a lake or small swamp, while the railway seemed to steer clear around it, heading right around it. Ex only spared a single look at the mess of bridges over the lake before deciding that he would not set a single foot on those. He liked having solid ground under him, thank you very much, he was not going to exchange that for something that couldn’t even decide whether it should be water or dirt. Especially not this soon after returning. And so he steered his steed into the grass, which his mind denounced as a blue word before he could have any kind of say in that. Ex sighed, knowing there wasn’t a lot he could do against it except wishing his mind would stay on topic while he tried to focus on getting where he needed to go.
As he rode on, for now staying about halfway in between the edge of the lake and the elevated railroad tracks. That felt more or less like the safest path around. It proved to be useful when the hum of something mechanical flying started to sound over the beating of hooves on the ground. Immediately he let his horse come to a standstill, looking around to try and figure out both where the drone was coming from and a place where he could hide from it. His eyes danced over the landscape, looking, searching, until he finally had eyes on the drone. It was rising up from between the large wall and the silos behind it that he had just rode past, and it seemed to be gaining altitude quite fast. Now the question was simply what way it was going to fly in, but that was not something he would like to wait for and find out. No, instead he would just go…
Well… Uh… Under the trees, and hope it passes by high enough to not spot me? No, no, that is incredibly stupid. Hmm….
He looked around more frantically until he realised what his gaze had been brushing past the whole time. The entrance to a cave. He could probably hide there. Ex spurred on the skeleton horse, bridging the distance between where he was and the hiding spot as fast as he could. The hum of the drone subsided for a moment, drowned out by the hooves on the ground, and Ex just hoped it would stay that way and go a different direction than he was going in.
In front of the cave he pulled the reigns hard, the horse skidding to a halt. Evil X jumped off even before it had completely stood still, and he started moving into the dark entrance of the cave. Two paces later, he turned around and grabbed the reigns, leading the horse in with him.
Or at least, that was the intent. The horse didn’t seem to want any of that, digging its hooves into the ground, neighing and whinnying as it shook its head to get free.
“Oh, come on, it’s just a cave. Get in there,” he growled, very impatient with the animal, especially because he heard the sound of the drone pick up once more. It was going his way, it seemed. Or well, the drone was, the general course this whole plan was taking certainly wasn’t. Nevertheless, despite his uncharismatic attempt at getting the horse to listen did not get him any further. He worriedly looked up at the sky, and though there was an overhang of dirt blocking his view, he could just about see the edge of the drone get into view. And generally, what he could see, could see him.
“Fine. Stay there then. Go and betray me.” Ex cursed under his breath as he retreated further into the cave, out of sight. It was dark except for the bit of sunlight coming in from the entrance, and it sloped down quite fast, but his focus was mostly on the entrance instead of what was behind him.
Perhaps, that was a mistake. More than perhaps. It certainly was.
Ex’s eyes were on the skeleton horse and the sky behind it, instead of on the darkness behind him, that slowly turned into a night sky filled with glowing green stars.
Stars that slowly crept up on him.
"Here, let me try to help you. Two can maybe get more done than one, okay?" Scar asked as he gently moved a bit closer, getting about halfway to Wels before his chain pulled taut and he couldn't continue further forwards. The knight just shrugged, a little bit of something in his eyes as he moved closer to him as well. It seemed almost as though there was a certain amount of resignation in the way he moved, as though he had already accepted that this was the way that things were going to be now. The landscaper most definitely had not. Not as far as Wels' current situation was concerned, at the very least. His own... Well. He wasn't too sure how accepting of it he was, but right now, one of his friends could use some help, and while he perhaps didn't have it in him right at that point to help himself, he certainly was not going to sit idly by and just have this happen.
Wels came and sat down next to him, his fingers half-heartedly poking at the metal band, trying to move it this way or that way. It didn't seem to do much, but Scar could see how it lifted off Wels' mouth ever so slightly every time he pushed against it from the back or pulled on it. It was perhaps only a millimetre, but it was something. The landscaper let his eyes go over it, seeing what it looked like and where possible weaknesses in the structure were. Still, to his eyes it seemed like a rather solid band of metal, the same as the collars were. Solid, unbreakable construction, not even with a seam where the two ends would have met. Of course there wouldn't be, the spider was very good at what they did. Scar sighed at the unwanted commentary a little voice in his brain was supplying him with. Really. He didn't care about the level of metalcrafting that bastard had mastered. He just cared about getting Wels out of it.
"Hmm..." he murmured, putting his hands on the band to feel around. Maybe, just maybe, he could find something like this, although he knew Wels had tried that before as well. Almost as expected, he found just smoothness, just as solid as it had looked.
The knight basically hummed back the noise he had made but in a higher pitch, as though he was questioning him.
"Oh, no, I found nothing yet. Just thinking." With one hand, Scar went and rubbed over his chin, eyes focussed on the problem in front of him. Wels in the meanwhile had dropped his hands into his lap, just sitting and staring into the distance for now. At the very least, that's what the landscaper could see. He could also see how his tail moved around a little bit, not wagging but more... forced, almost. Angry. But most of all, it felt hidden, almost as though he was not meant to be seeing it. The braided tuft at the end shifted around in time with the movements, and Scar blinked. Braids. Braids were generally thicker than hair. He looked back at the metal band, a thick blonde braid poking out from underneath it. If he could just somehow undo that... Then that might give them exactly enough room to work with. Probably. He hoped. And even if it didn't, it would probably give Wels a little bit more wiggle room.
"Okay, okay, I have a plan. Do you mind me taking out your braid?" he asked, and in return, the knight just shrugged. And why wouldn't he? It wasn't like it was hard or took a long time to put a simple braid in hair. And so, Scar kneeled behind Wels, first taking out the little hair tie he had used to keep the braid in place, before carefully unknotting it, strand by strand. It seemed to be going well enough, as well as fast enough. And even if it hadn't, time happened to be one of the resources they had a lot of right now. At the very least, it didn't seem like the Hermits would be busting in any second, judging by the number of footsteps outside. Just the one pair, seemingly of bare feet on stone.
Wait. Footsteps?
Scar froze, and he slowly looked over his shoulder, to the point in the wall where he knew that the wall wasn't a wall. There was someone there, alright, exactly the person they needed didn't need to be there. Grian. Except he looked like he, too, had fallen to the mark. Scar aspired to be that too, at one point, and-
No. No I don't. Stop that, brain. Please.
‘Grian’ just scoffed as he walked closer with a tray with plates on it.
"Playing dress up?" he asked condescendingly, before coming closer and putting down a plate of goo a little bit away.
"Wait. Can you help?" Scar asked, more out of habit than out of anything else.
"Why would I? He didn't accept the mark, did he? Perhaps my master would be a little bit more... lenient if he did. As for you... Why do you still have doubt in your heart? My master's side is the only true side." As he spoke, he walked around to pick up the full plate of goo that was still standing near Wels' slabs, and he made a face at it, as though the fact that there was still food on it personally offended him. Besides those two seconds of emoting, however, his face remained a perfectly neutral mask that showed nothing of what was going on inside his brain. And frankly, Scar did not want to know. Not if this ‘Grian’ spoke about joining that bastard. No way in hell that he would, if anything, the side of the spider was simply the best worst side he could ever be on.
"Are you even hearing yourself speak right now? We are your friends, Grian. If anything, you should be on our side here!" Scar didn't yell the words or speak particularly loudly, but there certainly was a lot of passion and care behind it. He was just about to stand up and face 'Grian' as Wels grabbed his wrist, keeping him standing where he was. He softly shook his head as well, as though he didn't want him to try and argue with the builder. Scar didn't entirely get why that was. After all, wasn't this one of their friends too? Wasn't it possible to talk him out of it?
The landscaper sent a glare towards Wels, even though he had his back turned to him.
"You're on the wrong side. Just accept it, my master cares for you more than others. Can't you see?" This was the point where Wels sharply turned his head towards the builder. He let go of Scar's wrist, and pushed himself up from the floor before moving in between Scar and 'Grian'. The landscaper frowned at that.
Why is he this protective of me? It's just words, words don't hurt. And even though he has a point- No, no he hasn't. If that bastard cared about us, they wouldn't have locked us up, now would they? Then again, this way nothing bad can happen to us, so maybe they're just protecting- ABSOLUTELY NOT. No. I refuse to believe that. Nope.
Scar shook the thoughts out of his head, aware that they were probably not his own. Honestly.
Behind Wels, 'Grian' scoffed once more.
"Just think about it for a bit, and you will come to accept the truth. Until then... Bon appetit." With that, 'Grian' left the room, the darkness closing behind him as though there wasn't even a door or wall where he had just walked through. Even though he had left, Wels remained tense, something Scar could see by the threatening sway of his tail. After a few moments longer, though, a sigh went through the knight, his posture relaxing a little bit before he turned towards the landscaper. He pointed towards the place where Grian had left through, followed by a tap against the side of his head and him making an x out of his wrists and hands. Then he shook his head once for good measure.
Although Scar mostly got the gist of what he meant, it was still rather difficult to know whether he had actually translated it right.
"Something to do with not Grian?" he asked, and Wels shook his head, before frowning, reconsidering, and actually nodding. He once again pointed at where he had left, before tapping the side of his head once more. Then he looked up, his hand bursting into a flat hand from where he had tapped against the side of his head. Again, a stern shake of his head, followed by an x made of arms and hands. This time, though, he followed it up by pointing from himself to Scar, then the same tapping again, and a nod.
"Don't... Don't take his ideas in your head? But... our thoughts?" he wasn't entirely sure of it, but it seemed the most logical he could get from the situation. Still, Wels nodded, so he thought he was on the right track at the very least. He had to be, right?
"I'll try that, though... Well. you know it's hard for me right now." Once again, the knight nodded, this time with some sympathy in his eyes. Then he reached behind his head, pulling the remains of the braid forwards, and tilting his head questioningly.
"Right, yes, of course. We were in the middle of something, before he disturbed us. Just... One more question. Do you know what is up with that food? It seems... Well. Nice. I guess. No, no, no it doesn't, it doesn't look like something I would never... No, ever eat. Just. Brain. Aargh." Still, the knight responded by slowly shaking his head while making straight eye contact. Almost as though he was trying to tell him... No? But more... Ominous, in a way? Well, whatever it was, the landscaper was quite sure he shouldn't just go and eat it, even though he had the idea that his empty stomach wouldn't mind in the slightest.
Wels sat down once more, his legs crossed in front of him, and Scar kneeled behind him to take out the rest of the braid. I went quite well up until he hit the point where the braid disappeared behind the metal band, but it was only a minor hitch in the total image. It just meant he needed to remember in which way the strands twisted around each other and twist them in the exact opposite direction. That seemed like something he was able to do, at the very least. Still, it would probably not be something he would do all too often. Then again, he didn't question whether having to deal with a gagged Wels - or any of the other Hermits - was a rather unique situation or not. As far as he knew, this was a first.
His hands tried working the strands of hair, but after a little while, it seemed as though the braid was somehow getting longer again instead of shorter. It was probably a sign that he was doing something wrong, and quite so at that. This was most definitely the opposite of the goal he was trying to reach.
"Hmm... Well... This uh..." he mumbled to himself, and Wels hummed back his 'hmm' at a higher pitch, not entirely sure what was going on.
"Oh, well... Turns out I don't actually know how to unbraid something if I can't just... Well, you know, rake my fingers through it. I... Maybe I could use some help?" he asked, his pitch shifting upwards the further he went. For the first time since being locked up there, he heard Wels actually chuckle, as far as he could with the ball of fabric in his mouth, of course. His hands reached backwards, feeling around until Scar had handed him the three strands he had been working with. The knight somehow managed to put them between the fingers of one hand, using the other one to feel some more to figure out the structure of it all. Scar could see him frown for a short moment, before he saw his eyes widening as he did a half-nod.
Then Wels' fingers deftly went to work, moving the strands around and shortening the braid significantly. He kept going until the end disappeared behind the metal band, and then only went a little bit slower in detangling his hair. Scar just sat and watched, amazed by how Wels was able to do this without looking even. And this was not something he could easily practice at, was it? After just a bit longer, he let the strands fall, and he saw a little bit more movement in the metal band now.
"May I?" Scar asked. The knight nodded, and the landscaper gently started prodding at it, to see how much it would move. It didn't seem like it was a lot, but it was better than nothing.
"Okay, I will go and press it forwards a bit, could you see if that gives you enough space to wiggle out of it?" Again, Wels nodded in response, his hands already raised up and touching the edges of the gag. His eyes were focussed on the wall in front of him as he tried out how far he could move his jaw. Scar gently pushed against the band, to make it lay flatter against the back of his head, but not so much that it would be digging into the knight's skull. It did indeed come forwards a little bit at the front, but not as much as they had initially hoped. Not enough to stick a finger between it and his skin.
Scar sighed and sat back. He wasn’t too sure what he had expected. Well, actually, he knew what he had expected, but he didn’t know why he had thought it would be that easy. Meanwhile, Wels let out a frustrated grunt, but that was about everything he did to show he had an opinion about it all. Nevertheless, his eyes found Scar’s, and the knight slightly nodded before raising his shoulders.
“We… We’ll figure it out, somehow. We will. Worst case… Well,” the landscaper started, but Wels was shaking his head, obstinate resolve on his face. Seems like he didn’t like the idea of the worst-case scenario too much. And on one hand, Scar got that completely, but on the other… he really didn’t.
It was perhaps good luck that she looked over her shoulder when she did. Or perhaps it had been a gut feeling, responding to the vague smell of smoke. In any case, whichever of the two it was, Cleo was happy she did. Especially because she really hadn’t expected that Biffa would be able to get out of the bonds they had placed him in. And yet, when she glanced into the cell, he was in the process of untying one of his arms. A spider was perched on his chest, and the burning remains of rope laid on the ground beside the chair.
Wait. That’s illegal. How did he…?
Her eyes quickly darted away from him to the other side of the room, where those two swords of him were still laying in a blatant act of hubris. The zombie cursed loudly enough for the robot to look up at her, and he actually took a moment in which he stopped with his attempts to get the knots loose to look her right in the eyes, to point at her, and then, with a grin, to rake his finger across his throat in a very clear threat. Once again, she looked from the robot to his swords and then back at the robot again, trying to figure out if she would have enough time to dash in and retrieve the weaponry before he got loose. The question was also if it was a risk she was willing to take. After all, if she were to run in and be too late, the door would be open, and Biffa would be free to rampage through the bunker. On the other side, if she didn’t, the door would remain locked, but he would have access to his swords, and who knew what he would be able to do with those.
Cleo grimaced. She knew that the longer she spent figuring out whether or not she should try to get the swords, the slimmer the chance of actually pulling it off was. A quick glance at Biffa revealed that he was already busy untying the last bonds on his arms, and after that, there was only his legs left. She nervously squeezed her hands into fists, before making up her mind. She very quickly pulled out her communicator, opening up the DM’s to Xisuma.
<ZombieCleo> Biffa’s getting loose
<ZombieCleo> Backup needed
<ZombieCleo> I’m going in to get his swords
Then she put it away before getting out her own sword. While she would prefer her crossbow, she would need free hands to carry Biffa’s weapons, or at least for a small moment, in order to put them in her inventory. Besides that, reloading the crossbow simply took too long if she had to deal with the robot trying to kill her.
The zombie breathed in and out to still her nerves before turning the key and opening the lock. This had to go right, it simply had to. She saw the grin on Biffa’s face only grow wider as he managed to free his arms, and she knew she would not have a lot of time.
Let’s do this.
In her pocket, her communicator buzzed a few times, but she ignored it. No time. Cleo threw open the door and sprinted to the bed on one side of the room, skidding to a halt in front of it. She quickly grabbed the swords laying there, her eyes nervously darting over her shoulder. One leg loose. Almost out of time.
With the swords in her grasp, she made a run for the door once more.
Come on come on come ON!
Behind her, she heard the chair creak, but she didn’t dare look. Instead, she tossed the weapons to the side, slamming the door shut behind her and keeping it like that with her own weight as her fingers tried to frantically get the door to lock again. Her heart was racing in her throat as she heard footsteps behind it coming closer, but the key wouldn’t yet listen to her attempts to make it turn.
Oh, not like this, please, not like this, lock, dammit, lock!
The shadow of the robot was now visible from her peripheral vision, the flickering lights in the room enhancing his creepiness factor by about a million. Cleo gritted her teeth as she did one last attempt at turning the lock, which most certainly would’ve been easier had she been a little bit calmer. Then again, she was about as calm as she could be after having just been threatened with death by someone who she knew was serious about it.
Click.
A wave of release coursed through her as she felt the key turn, finally, and she spent no time at all getting said key out from said lock, instead tossing it about as far down the hallway as she could muster. Then she stepped back from the door, happy that it was protecting her once more.
On the other side of it, though, Biffa seemed hellbent on getting through it, one way or another. For a second, there was only silence, and then it started. A rhythmic sound of metal hitting metal, in time with the door slightly shaking. Through the iron bars in the top of the door she could see how he was moving so his fists were alternatively bashing against the door.
And it didn’t at all take long for a growing dent to appear.
Despite the chain of events that had led up to it, Xisuma was happy that they at least had Jevin back, and that he seemed to be doing… Well, he wouldn’t say good, but… About as well as he could considering the circumstances. At the very least the poor guy got some rest now. After him and Stress had left the room, the admin stood up.
“Alright. With that done, I think it’s time to go and figure out a strategy. We need to decide how many people are going, as well as who those people will be. Those two hang together, so we can’t really talk about one of them without mentioning the other. Given what Jevin just mentioned, we can be reasonably sure we have an exit portal once we get out of the lair itself, and otherwise we can fall back on elytra and rockets, so I think the most important part is the way we’re getting in. Does anyone have suggestions?” he asked, his eyes darting around from person to person. Given the amount of creative energy between them, they should be able to figure something out, even despite them missing one of their main strategists. He saw the Hermits thinking about his question. Cub was staring off in the distance as he chewed on his lip, Joe was tapping out a rhythm on the table, Mumbo was fumbling with his buttons, TFC was stroking his beard, and False was mostly just turning her hair around her fingers as she slowly slouched further back in her chair. In the end, though, it was Doc that spoke up.
“I see only two rough ideas. Well, three, technically. The first one would be to go in and take that lair by force. Fight whatever we see and take the place meter by meter. That would need as many people as we can muster so we can switch out and heal up a few times. However, we do need to take the limitations of potions and regeneration in mind if we were to do that. The second option would be to chug some invisibility potions and sneak in, which would mean we need as little people as possible. That’s risky, though, if they get found out,” he stated, counting the ideas on his fingers.
“And the last one, what would that be? I thought you said there were going to be three,” Joe asked, and Doc seemed to chuckle.
“The third one would be going there, just not going inside, and instead hoping we can dig in the right places.” The cyborg then shrugged. “Would mean we leave an awful lot of uncertainty up to fate and our sense of spatial awareness, though. And to luck, because we won’t have eyes on what would be going on inside.”
Doc slouched in his chair after he said what he had wanted to say, nodding to the admin to take it from there.
“Well, those are certainly three ideas, although I do agree on the last one being a bit too risky. Not to say the others aren’t, but… Well. Unless we can figure out a good way to get information on what would be going on inside, I would rather go for a different approach. Does anyone else have comments on this, or an alternative?” Once again, he looked around, and False perked up a little.
“I would suggest against the idea to take the place by force. Doc, you know what happened in the cave, how can you… How could you suggest that?” Her hand was on the pommel of her sword again, her knuckles white as she squeezed into it.
“Just an option, Falsie. Never said it was a good one. The one good thing is that they no longer have Biffa to go against us. Just-“
“Just Wels, and Grian, and Python, and Iskall, and Ren, and Scar, and a lot of spiders. And even if most of them haven’t been turned… They could still use them against us! Don’t forget that.” As she spoke, she gestured with one hand to bring some more strength to her words.
“It’s a valid concern. I mean, I know I wouldn’t attack someone if it meant having to go through the beautiful face of my friends,” Keralis added, nodding to False.
I should tell them…
He made eye contact with Tango and Impulse, before sighing and standing up. He hadn’t liked it to have to keep things a secret from the other Hermits, but it was probably best if they knew too. And so, he cleared his throat, and spoke up.
“I have something to say about that. Should you come across one of the captured people… The fastest way to get them out of there is to kill them.” As he expected, the statement caused a little bit of an uproar.
“You… What?! We can’t just go killing our friends! They’ll just… Aren’t they just going to respawn there anyway?” Zedaph called out, a frown on his face. On the other side of the table, Joe and Keralis were calling things as well, about this being a bad thing, about how this could never be the best strategy they had.
Xisuma just sighed and started moving his hands in a calming motion.
"Look, let me just..." He hit the table with his fist to call the attention to himself again. "Listen up. I know it sounds counterintuitive, but there's something you all should know. Yesterday evening, I managed to fix the respawning issue. I know I haven't told you all yet, but it was for good reason. I did not want anyone to become relaxed because dying no longer has the consequences it had for a few days. The moment one of you dies, our enemy will know what has happened, and they might change it back. So please, please, just be careful, and let our captured friends be the first to die, so they can respawn safely back home. I know it sounds harsh, I really do, but-" He stopped talking as he felt his communicator buzz in his pocket. For a moment, his heart dropped. Wasn't everyone accounted for?
Not another death message. Please. Not another death message, they can't know I fixed the respawn.
It seemed, however, that none of the others had that same buzz in their pockets, which only made him more curious.
"Excuse me for a second," he said, before he dug up his communicator. It didn't matter who it was, because whoever it was, if they were messaging him directly, it had to be bad. His heart dropped further as he realised it was Cleo who was sending him a request for backup. His eyes widened, and the blood drained from his face.
"I need everyone that's in fighting condition to pick up their armour and weapons and head down to the cells. Now. Biffa is escaping." His words sounded almost like cannons in the sudden silence of the room, that took another second to turn into a cacophony of noise as people jumped out of their chairs, equipping armour almost as they were running out the door.
<xisumavoid> Backup is on its way.
<xisumavoid> Please don't do anything stupid and wait for them to arrive.
He was just about to put his communicator down when it buzzed once more. This time it wasn't a private message, though.
>> EvilXisuma was slain by Spider
His eyes widened.
No. He can’t be here. How is he here?
Notes:
Well. Didn't you scroll far to get here? :D
In all seriousness, enjoy this little present. A chapter of 23k for my 23rd birthday, which is actually today!
I worked hard getting this done in time over the last time, and I'm just going to say: Never again.
Also, sorry to Wels, Python, Scar, Evil X, and a little bit to Cleo and Jevin as welll.
Chapter 62: Arc 2 - 14
Summary:
A change of outlook. Blocks all the way down.
Notes:
TW for the description of gore/body horror. Stop at "Unsure about whether it would be safe [...]", safe to continue at "I love poisons..."
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Opening his eye again was strange. Something had changed, but he wasn’t sure as to what.
How long have I been out for?
The swede sat up, looking around as he scratched his hairline. The first thing he noticed was the fact that Ren was laying basically right behind him, limbs sprawled out over the floor. The next thing was the fact that Ren was dressed in a green robe-like coat thing. Then came the realisation that he himself was wearing the same kind of coat.
The issue he had with it, though, was the fact that at first it didn’t even feel out of place, quite the contrary even. As though that was where the coat belonged. His eye darted around, looking for his sweater. He’d rather wear that. Well, either that sweater, or just no shirt at all. Not this coat that reminded him of cobwebs, of spiders, and of what had happened to his friends. Without thinking much more of it, his hands travelled upwards, to the hook and eye closures that kept the coat in place, but they halted before they could arrive. Iskall blinked and looked down, realising he couldn’t bring himself to come closer to the closure. Almost as though there was an unwillingness in his system to do that, to actually take it off.
I suppose I could keep it on… it’s not like it’s really warm here anyway.
The swede was about to shrug it off when he realised that that logic wasn’t sound in the slightest. Not getting rid of a thing that reminded him of bad things, because it would be a little chilly without it? That just seemed disproportionate. Once more, he tried to undo the closures, and once more, his hands stopped following his orders when they got near them. As though they just really didn’t want to enter the inch or so around the hooks. Iskall frowned and clenched his teeth, a feeling of unshakeable unease settling in his stomach. This was wrong. This was oh so wrong.
It didn’t help his nerves that his hands and forearms seemed different from how they were before. And yet, as with the coat, it felt like it belonged that way. It was fascinating, in the same way that creeper holes or wither roses were fascinating: a testament of something having gone so, so terribly wrong. He didn’t want to look at it, he didn’t want to realise why it was different yet familiar, he didn’t want to find out what his choices earlier had brought him.
And so he eventually managed to tear his gaze away, instead focussing it on something else, anything else. At first his eye re-found Ren, still out cold, still in that same kind of coat. The sling was gone too, and his arm seemed to be straight again, instead of having a second bend in it where it had been broken.
Wait, why is he… Didn’t I… take his place?
He thought back at what had happened earlier, but it was hazy, so damned hazy. Sure, he could more or less remember hearing Python scream and-
Python. Where is he? Why didn’t I think of him sooner?
Iskall turned his head around in the direction where he knew the snake man should still be chained up, but he wasn’t on the slab where the swede expected him to be. Instead, he laid a little bit away from it, convulsing on the floor, seemingly in pain. He, too, had lines of a venomous green crawling over his skin, but Iskall knew instinctively that they were different from the ones on his own skin.
His are punishment. Mine are reward.
He nodded to himself before blinking.
Wait. No. Brain, how is this a reward? What… I don’t understand. In any case. Python.
Standing up, he glanced over at Ren momentarily before moving over to Python’s twitching form, or, at the very least, going as close as he could. Much to his disdain relief, that meant being able to kneel next to him.
“Python? Are you okay, dude?” It felt a little bit like asking if water was wet, seeing as the only response was a few whimpers that didn’t particularly sound like words and more like sounds the snake man would’ve made regardless of if he was asked a question or not. And he didn’t sound okay. Iskalls eye quickly went over his body, trying to figure out what exactly was wrong, and at the same time, how he could help. If he could at all. If he wanted to at all.
Again, the swede found himself pausing at the mere thought. Of course he wanted to help, why wouldn’t he? This was his enemy friend, and he couldn’t bear to see him like this. But then why was his mind telling him otherwise? What was up with that?
Looking down, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ban any and all of the strange thoughts out of his head. He had no use for them, and if he was really honest to himself, they scared him. That wasn’t how he was, not who he was, not what he wanted to be.
No. I’m going to look at Python and I’m going to help him in whatever way I can. Brain, you can shut up for now.
He nodded to himself as if to ascertain himself he could do it, before opening his eyes once more, to be greeted with his first real look at his chest since waking up, and, as such, he came face to face with the emblem of a spider emblazoned on his chest in harsh green lines. Ever so slowly, he brought one of his fingers up to his mouth and licked it, before fervently trying to rub the green lines off his chest. Not that it helped in any capacity. The lines stayed, and the only thing he managed to make happen was that the skin around them turned vaguely greener, instead of the red he was expecting.
“Alright, that’s bad,” he muttered to himself. Still, despite the victory loss on the getting-rid-of-lines front, there were more pressing matters. The swede couldn’t quite believe how fast he had gotten side-tracked again, even when sitting next to the person he was supposed to be trying to help. He balled his fingers into a fist, then refocussed on Python.
Third times’ the charm.
One thing he could say for certain was that the convulsions weren’t becoming less frequent. On the upside, they also didn’t seem to grow in intensity, so that was at least something. Not much, but if he had learnt anything in the past day or so, it was to count the victories, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, and to find the positives of the situation. Sadly, though, the positive generally took the shape of ‘Well, it could be worse’, but that wasn’t something Iskall wanted to think about too long. That was just the depressing truth about the situation.
Unsure about whether it would be safe for Python if he tried to grab a hold of him, Iskall in the end decided to just not do that. That was, of course, unless it seemed like the snake man would be moving in such a way that he would smack his arms into the corners of the slabs or something like that. Instead, the swede observed, trying to find out more than just the fact that there were green lines on Python and that he was in pain. Of course, there were the variety of wounds on his arms and neck where skin was missing still, caked in blood and bits of yellowish puss, but it was difficult to judge whether those were the reason for Python’s current discomfort. Yes, they surely looked at the very least a little bit infected, but it didn’t look bad enough to warrant this kind of response.
His eye scanned further, going up and down before realising the hands looked off. As in, they didn’t look normal by a long margin. The shape was wrong, but perhaps more striking was the colouration: a sickly green around his stumps, even with black along the wounded edges; poisoned, corrupted. Iskall didn’t even feel the need to continue looking for the source of Python’s problems. This screamed ‘source’ to him. At the same time, he realised he was not too sure how to treat it, not without milk. And it wasn’t like he had a bucket or a cow readily available here. As for the other options… Sucking it out was out of the question now, judging by how far the green had already spread, and the only other way he knew was just to wait until it had run its course.
I love poisons… No. Hate. I hate poisons. Why would I love them?
“I’m so sorry, Python, I can’t help you,” he whispered, “so hang in there. If there’s anyone that can get through this, it’s you. I know you can.” He was silent for a moment, hoping for a response in any way. The closest he got was Python’s eyes opening, momentarily focussing on him before drifting out of focus again as he clenched his teeth together to contain some noise. “Do you want me to ramble a little? Just uh… groan once for yes and twice for no.” The swede wasn’t entirely sure if it was going to help even in the slightest, but he knew he was able to just keep talking if he wanted to, and if that helped his friend, he was more than fine with doing just that. Again, he fell silent, and listened for any kind of signal from Python. He wasn’t even sure if the other man had properly heard him, because he seemed to have a lot going on at that moment. Nevertheless, Iskall waited and listened, until about a minute later the snake man managed to refocus his eyes on him, and let out a singular groan.
“I got you, dude. So-‘ he switched to sitting cross-legged instead of kneeling ‘-I’ll just start off then. I would ask you for a subject to ramble on about, but given your situation, I’ll pick one. How about… blocks. Hmm. No. not blocks. That’s not specific enough. So many things are blocks, like, no matter how deep down you go it’s always blocks in one way or another. Makes you wonder, really, how far does that rabbit hole go? Are you and I made out of blocks, if you dig down far enough? Like, really tiny ones, to make us a bit rounder than a block? But then what would those blocks be made out of? And the even smaller ones, what made those up? And so on, and so forth? When would that blockception stop? It’s not like we’ll ever properly know, I guess, but at the same time… With all the tech that’s been coming out of ConCorp and Area 77, there should be a way to figure it out once and for all. Or not. I’m not really an expert on any of this. Besides, I’m mostly just speculating on something we don’t really have evidence for. Aaaand that is basically why I didn’t want to pick blocks as a topic. Makes my head hurt a little bit if I think too much about how I think it all works. This is why I’m not an admin. I don’t think my poor brain would be able to handle knowing the inner workings of the world, or at the very least, at a deeper level than I do right now, which is why X has that job and not me. I’m happy just farming Iskallium and building Omega villager trading halls of Doom.” Iskall chuckled as he thought back to his base and the various buildings that were still in progress. He would hate love to be able to work on those projects again the moment he got out of here.
“In any case. I’m gonna stop rambling about blocks now. Instead, let’s go for… How does the moon sound? I like looking at it a lot, especially when it goes through all of the different phases. Like, how it goes from completely full and square to-“ A yawn and movement behind him bulled him out of his ramblings.
“Why are you talking about the full moon?” came Ren’s voice, a bit hoarse but interested nonetheless. “I can tell you from experience the last one was… about three days ago.” A pause followed. “Iskall my dude, what are you wearing? Where did your sweater go? Wait, what am I wearing? Why- What happened?” The swede looked over his shoulder, to see Ren was just about as confused as he was when he had first woken up.
“I’m not entirely sure, but I think it’s got something to do with the beautiful markings-“ he gritted his teeth “-ugly markings on our chests and everywhere. And I’m pretty sure those are also in some form responsible for these annoying thoughts that seem to pop up in my head. If you got them too… I guess do give in? No. No, don’t. Don’t give in. Fight them. They’re… I’m not sure what they are but they don’t feel ba- Good. They don’t feel good.” Iskall grunted, shaking his head to get rid of the thoughts.
“You okay there?” Ren asked, confusion on his face, though there seemed to be a hint of something more there as well.
“Not entirely, but better than Python. I was going on about things to distract him a little, care to join?” the swede answered, carefully tasting each word in his mouth before speaking it out loud. “I was just telling something about the various phases of the moon, but I think you might be better suited for the job, what with your… affliction.”
“I mean…” Ren shrugged. “My knowledge about this is… highly specific, but I guess I could tell a thing or two about it, as well as some interesting conclusions I’ve drawn. How does that sound, my dude?” He stood up, coming closer until his chain ran out. The hippie looked mildly annoyed at it, before slightly readjusting his collar o get just that little bit further. Then he paused and blinked, looking at his hand and arm.
“Wait, how long were we out for? When did this heal?” In response, Iskall frowned and scratched his head.
“I… am not too sure, actually. A few hours? A day, maybe? It can’t be much longer, I think. The strange thing is that, well… Python. He is worse than… you know. Before. He kind of deserves it, though. That being said-“
“Wow, wow, wow, wait a second there, dude. What did you just say?”
“Hmmm? I said he hasn’t healed, which is weird.” Iskall raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure what Ren was going on about.
“No, after that.” Ren, in the meanwhile, was squinting at him suspiciously. “You said he deserves this. Which is true but- Holy mackerel I did not just say that. Why would I say that?”
The swede grimaced as he recognised what was going on with Ren, but more so because of what he had apparently said. He hadn’t even realised it, and yet, he had said that while basically sitting next to Python. A quick glance over at him revealed some wetness around his eyes, and Iskall felt even more guilty, despite not knowing for certain if the tears had been there before or not.
“I am so, so sorry. I didn’t mean that. I really did. Didn’t. My brain is… Doing strange things,” he whispered towards the writhing form on the floor.
Not strange. Just the things it should be doing.
Iskall bonked the side of his head with the palm of his hand a few times to get the thoughts out, then looked over at Ren. The hippie looked back at him. His face was lined with worry, but he could see fear and something more brewing in his eyes.
“Ren. I don’t know what’s going on, but we can’t give in to this… this blessing. Curse. Curse, dammit, I mean curse! We can’t let it win.”
Ren nodded sagely.
“I agree. We can let it win.”
Notes:
Sorry for the long silence, the last few weeks of school have been very busy. Now that it's summer holiday, though... I hope to put out chapters a bit more often again. I missed writing.
Also I'm just gonna say that Python did not deserve this.
Chapter 63: Arc 2 - 15
Summary:
Everything's alright. A thief's guilt. Realisations.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
He found himself sitting at the kitchen table, listening to Stress sing as she was whisking up a new batch of pancake batter. It was strange, sitting there the same as he had not a day before. Sure, the situation had been kind of bad then, but things had seemingly escalated over the past twenty-four hours.
A day ago, he would have never thought he'd be part of a mission to douse a wildfire.
A day ago, he wouldn't have periodically looked around the room, on the lookout for spiders.
A day ago, he could only guess what was happening to his captured friends.
A day ago, he hadn't yet experienced what he now had.
Time was strange like that. Still, despite it all, he knew he was now here and at the very least relatively safe. The Hermits were more than capable to defend a place such as this. There was no need to worry.
As he sat, he very much tried to ignore the sound of armoured feet running through the hallways, of muffled half-yelled words that sounded like a battle plan. He didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to know what was going on, going wrong. Well, didn’t want to was perhaps the wrong descriptor. He wanted to; he just also knew he had nowhere near the emotional capacity needed to deal with it. Jevin just needed a rest. A long one at that. He refocussed on Stress’ singing, hoping for it to drown out the background noises if he could just focus on it enough.
“Try not to get worried, try not to turn on to problems that upset you, whoa, don’t you know? Everything’s alright, yes, everything’s fine. And we want you to sleep well tonight, let the world turn without you tonight… If we try, we’ll get by, so forget all about us tonight…”
It certainly seemed to work for a bit. And then he saw Stress suddenly stop whisking as her voice came to an abrupt halt. With growing dread Jevin watched as she retrieved her communicator from her pocket, and his mind pre-emptively turned into the word ‘no’ on repeat.
Logically, he knew there could be many reasons why her communicator had buzzed. Private messages, simple status updates in the main group chat, a timer that had been set, that sort of thing. It didn’t have to be bad news. Once again, on the one hand, he desperately wanted to know if it was what he thought it would be, and on the other, he didn’t want to know at all.
Jevin wasn’t too sure what reaction he was expecting of Stress, but a puzzled look and a soft “huh?” wasn’t it. If he had eyebrows, he would’ve certainly raised one by now.
“Is… is everything alright?” he asked, and her eyes found his. The ice queen bit her lip, her gaze switching from her communicator to him as though she was trying to decide what to tell him. In the end, though, she just sighed.
“Well, I don’t know, luv, really. I’m not entirely sure what to fink of it. Ehrm… Well. Someone died”- Jevin felt his heart sink into his stomach –“but… Not one of us, if you catch my drift, yeah? A bloke called EvilXisuma, which is… Well. Last I heard, he’d been banned, but that was months ago! More trouble than anyfing, but… you know.” She gestured vaguely with her hands, and Jevin more or less exhaled in relief. Yes, it was bad that someone else had died, but he was long glad that it wasn’t one of his friends. At the same time, he felt kind of bad that he was almost happy about it. He knew what kind of thing would happen to the poor soul, even if that soul in question was an antagonist in his own right.
“Still a person,” he admitted, and Stress nodded, before sighing and going back to whisking the batter. In silence, this time, deep in thought.
At his place at the table, Jevin found himself gently humming the melody Stress had been singing earlier, clinging to the hope, the message in those words.
It was all he could do, for now.
---
The first thing he did, even before opening his eyes, was brushing off his arms and legs, trying to get rid of the spiders that were crawling over him. The second thing he did was realising that the noises of skittering arachnids had been replaced by the sounds of waves gently lapping onto a shore. As he finally looked around, he realised he was no longer in the cave. Instead, he was in a place he didn’t quite recognise.
With a groan Evil X clambered to his feet, looking around. He would almost describe his location as a landing strip of sorts, and he knew this had to be spawn. At the very least, the large lettering on the carpet below him made it look like a welcome mat, proudly displaying the name that had been given to this world. Looking further, he saw larger towers on both ends, one with the purple glow of a portal in it, the other…
A box?
He knew the portal could help him get to where he needed to be should he feel so inclined to go into sensory overload hell, but the box intrigued him as it stood there alone on its pedestal. He looked around, watchful of drones, before powerwalking his way to the tower with the box in it. He knew those pesky Hermits had an issue with cleaning up after themselves, but in this case, it could possibly work to his advantage. After all, he had absolutely nothing, not even a communicator. There were few items he would not be happy to have.
Evil X got to the shulker quite quickly, looking over his shoulder one last time before focussing on it. Opening it, he was surprised to find a complete set of shimmering diamond gear inside it, complete with tools, rockets, and a set of wings. Out of reflex, he closed it again.
There’s no way someone would’ve just left this here.
He squinted, looking around the small room until he spotted the sign smack in the middle of it.
“DID YOU DIE?” it said, which almost sounded like mockery to him. What sounded even more like mockery was the price asked for the box. As someone with literally nothing to his name, not even in his enderchest, he could not just drop multiple blocks of diamond for the set, no matter how useful it was.
Ever so briefly, the possibility of stealing it all came up in his mind. The thought was just as swiftly dismissed. Thievery was red. Bright red. If he was trying to prove he was not the evil one, stealing wasn’t going to help.
Borrowing , on the other hand… He could just borrow it for now and return it when he was done making Xisuma pay. That wasn’t nearly as bad, not really. Hesitantly he laid his hand on the box once more, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one would see him take the armour and the weaponry.
I’ll bring this back. Unless this is one of my brother’s schemes, in which case… I’ll be back to take the rest too.
With a small nod to himself, he quickly started hooking the various bits of diamond plating into the right slots of his standard red armour. It had been modified expressly for this purpose, even though he had barely if ever made use of the functionality. Right now, though, he felt like he could do with some extra protection.
Call it a gut feeling.
Or maybe it was just his body’s response to having died for the first time in… well. Quite some time.
Before he knew it, the plates were in place, and he shifted around, unfamiliar with the weight of it all. Things didn’t really have a weight in that other dimension, and Evil X couldn’t quite remember the last time he had worn armour. Nevertheless, he was sure he would get used to it quickly. It was also only now that he realised that he had put on the chestplate instead of the elytra, but that was fine. He preferred walking anyway, even though flying would probably be quicker. Evil X also realised he was very much on an island, and if he didn’t want to go into the Nether, flying was his best option to get anywhere. That, or the small boat he could see drifting next to the carpeted platform.
Boat. Yes. Excellent.
Without a second thought, he put the elytra and the few rockets he had grabbed back into the shulker before making his way over to the boat. He hoped the diamond plating would help a little bit to hide who he was, given that there wasn’t really any cover out at sea, but worst case he could always jump into the water and submerge himself to hide from the drones. If there would even be drones patrolling here, because he hadn’t seen any so far.
Then again, him not having seen any did not equal them not having been there. Either way, he walked over to the boat and hopped in. He had quite some rowing to do if he wanted to get to his brother’s base, so he could best start doing so.
---
The buzz of multiple communicators at once caught their attention. The message displayed on them in bold font even more so. A content grin appeared on their face as they moved out of their web, eager to see their new prey. Nevertheless, they carried themselves through the hallways with a certain dignity and a certain finality. Not running to get to the altar sooner, just walking. Arachne had the time; they doubted the new little fly would be able to break through the lock on the door. After the slimy one, they had deemed it necessary to lock the altar room. Having any of the little flies snooping around simply would not do.
As such, the one thing they had not expected to see was an empty altar and a room without a single sign that a little fly had respawned there. And yet the communicators had said someone had died.
Their hands balled into fists, crackling with green energy.
They did something. Those flies must have a Worldshaper on their side… That one must be next. I will NOT have my plans be thwarted.
Arachne moved out of the room, slamming the door shut behind them with perhaps a little bit more power than necessary. Once more, they locked it, before making the very conscious decision of moving back to their web. Despite wanting to simply go into the dungeons and trying to learn the identity of the other Worldshaper, Arachne realised that right now, the risk of them accidentally ripping apart one of the little flies limb from limb was rather present. And with the respawning changed… they would risk losing them. And that would not do. Ultimately, they needed the little spiders to enact their plans, it made no sense to have them slip from their grasp at this stage, no matter how good it would feel to channel some of their rage.
Once back in their web, they started making specific hand motions, the air around them crackling with energy until images popped up, images and words and numbers, all neatly connected together by a web of lines.
It was time to repair what that other Worldshaper had broken and to make it so that it could not be broken once more.
Notes:
me? releasing a chapter at half past three in the morning? its more likely than you'd think.
bonus points if you guess where stress' song is from.
Chapter 64: Arc 2 - 16
Summary:
Breakout. Face your fears.
Notes:
TW for a panic attack. It slowly builds over the course of the perspective, you can hop out any time you want. Safe to continue at “What… what happened?”
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Frankly, she had no idea what had made here decide to run with the others, even as every fibre of her being had asked, begged, pleaded, to stay behind. And yet, here she was. Putting on armour at break-neck speeds as she ran through the hallways. Her sword swayed on her hip in time with the rhythm of her footsteps, and before long she found herself running in front, a lot more used to actually running into combat than the others. A lot more used to the heavy diamond armour.
Why am I doing this why am I doing this why am I doing this this can only end badly
False knew her panic was only rising with every step more she set in the direction of the room they had locked Biffa into, just as she knew that Cleo was there. And while Xisuma had said he had fixed the respawn, the fighter did not in the slightest want to test that out. A sharp pang of unease went through her when she felt a buzz in her pocket, but at the same time she became aware of the hammering of metal against metal, dull thuds that beat like a wardrum. Where it came from, she could not quite say, she could only hope that it meant Biffa had not managed to pass the iron door yet.
Just turn around and leave, go, don’t do this, don’t go there, save yourself, please, I don’t want to die
She didn’t climb so much as glide down the ladder to get to the right level, propelling herself into the right hallway with a kick against the wall. Only now could she hear the zombie, that was valiantly trying to sound certain of herself.
“Stand down, Biffa. I don’t want to hurt you!” False would have believed it, were it not for the shakiness of Cleo’s voice. Shaky with good reason.
I shouldn’t be here I shouldn’t be here I shouldn’t be here I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die
Behind her, she still heard the footsteps of the others, slowly following her lead as she skidded around the corner. There, she saw Cleo standing, sword tightly in her hands and pointed at the door that was… Well. There were cracks already, and they grew larger and larger as False watched, like something straight from a horror movie or something. The flickering lights in the room beyond the door didn’t really help either.
And still, the thuds continued. False ran over to Cleo, unsheathing her sword as she went to stand next to her friend, her eyes very much trying to stray away from the door every moment she did not force herself to look in that general direction.
“False…? But… I thought you were-“
“I know. I’m not sure why I’m here either but just… Don’t make me think about it too much.” Or I’ll run away. As I should. This is a bad idea this is such a bad idea why am I here why did I come here I should leave right now.
It took her a lot of focus and discipline to keep standing there, to keep her eyes on the door and to keep her sword raised. Truth was, she wanted to run away. Either that, or to crumple up and hide. Fight or flight or freeze, and while her body wanted to do either of the last ones, already seizing up, False herself wanted to go for the former so desperately.
“Face your fears, Falsie. You got this,” she whispered to herself, and she would believe it a lot more if actual sound had left her mouth with each word instead of only at about a quarter of the syllables.
Yet still she stood, her sword only exaggerating the trembling and shaking of her hands. She flinched every time she saw and heard a fist impact with the door, and her breathing rose higher and higher in her chest as the cracks widened to the point of Biffa being able to stick his hand straight through.
Leave, fool, leave while you still can, leave this place and live, come on, move, don’t you see you should move? He’s getting out!
Had she been there alone, False had no doubt that she would have given in to the thoughts as they were more than reasonable, despite her will to stand there with her friend. Instead, she noticed how more and more of the Hermits arrived and took a stance around the door, glistening diamond armour all around her. Impulse and Mumbo had thought to bring shields, Joe stood a little bit away with a bow, and Doc was holding his trident. Yet more footsteps were approaching quickly, taking up positions, crowding the hallway. The fighter realised that with the current circumstances, this was the safest she would be. Surrounded by friends, united for one goal.
It didn’t stop her brain complaining, though, especially because she knew they had no plan, nothing at all prepared. The closest they had to a plan was just trying to prevent damage to themselves as well as trying to knock out Biffa. It was… Foolish, really, and she fully realised it. The only positive thing was the fact that the robot seemed unarmed. Then again, that did nothing to quell the murderous intent in his eyes. The question was how to solve that, how to make him realise that they were not the enemy.
Meanwhile, Biffa reached for the door handle. False shot a panicked glance over at Cleo, her heart sinking into her stomach as she felt her body stiffen up. The zombie didn’t seem to notice it, though, instead having a look of intense focus on her face.
Move move move this is going wrong why are you still standing there just move dammit don’t wait for him to break free just go right now
Her eyes shot around to catch those of the others around, hoping that one of them had a plan. Anything. The faces around her were filled with anticipation and light hints of dread. She could see how a shudder went through them as the robot actually managed to grab the handle, and a collective sigh of relief as it didn’t seem to open the door.
Locked. It buys you time to get out. Why are you not getting out? You’re gonna die here if you don’t get out.
False gritted her teeth, trying to press the thoughts out of her head as the robot resumed mercilessly beating the door to break it open. Again, she looked around, this time making eye contact with Zedaph. If anything, he looked worried, but she wasn’t sure whether that worry was aimed at Biffa or at her. Probably both, knowing the man. The fighter attempted a smile, to put him a little bit at ease, but managed a grimace at best, and even that felt wrong. His lips twitched upwards for a second, then his focus drifted off again, back towards the door. It seemed like the robot was bashing into it with more of a plan now, aiming his blows more around the lock and letting the cracks spread through there. Like he was going to just rip and tear out the entire locking mechanism, bypassing it completely.
He’s getting out he’s getting out he’s getting out he’ll come for me and I’ll die I don’t want to die please don’t come for me don’t come for me don’t hurt me I don’t want to die
Her knuckles whitened as she strengthened her grip on her sword to reassure herself that she would be able to defend herself at least a little bit if he got out. When he got out. False wanted to take a step backwards, to move away from the frontline, but quickly realised that her legs felt like some kind of weird combination of stone and jelly at the same time: unbelievably unsteady, but also not in any kind of mood to move. Her heart was racing faster and faster as her breathing threatened to turn into hyperventilating
This is wrong this is wrong please I don’t want to die please legs move get me out of here get me out of here I’ll die here we’ll all die here
Either she had made a sound or something had shown on her face, because she suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder, which startled her almost to the point of stabbing in the direction the hand had come from. Almost. She just in time realised it had simply been Cleo, with an expression of both worry and determination.
“Alright, that’s it. False, I’m getting you out of here, because this is not going to work. No offence, but you look paler than a snowman.” The zombie sounded like she wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and somewhere, False was happy. Happy that someone was getting her out. At the same time, she felt angry, angry and sad and guilty. She didn’t want to leave her friends to their fate while she was somewhere safe. She wanted to be able to stand there with them, without wanting to crumple up into a ball and just not existing. And at the same time, she wanted to not have to feel so damned afraid, to not have to stand and look Biffa in the eye.
It was all she could do to gently nod once, very slowly lowering her sword.
“Excellent. Keralis, Impulse, we’re gonna step back, please get ready to close the line as we do.” False felt how the zombie moved her hand from her shoulder to around her waist, making them stand side to side.
“Of course! Take care of Falsie, okay?” Keralis answered, and Impulse just nodded, his eyes trained on the robot that had been steadily punching more and more dents and cracks into the door. It was shaking precariously in its hinges now, and the question was not if he would break through, but when, and it was probably going to be sooner rather than later.
“I will. On three. One, two, three!” Cleo rocked False backwards on each count, only to actually step at the last count, dragging the fighter along with her. Immediately Keralis and Impulse stepped lightly forwards and to the side, blocking the path between the girls and the door.
To say the relief was instant would be overstating it, but it certainly felt easier to move once those glowing green eyes could no longer find her. The next few steps were still difficult, her body unwilling to fully cooperate, but with some guiding by the zombie False did manage.
“Good, good, you’re getting there. Just a bit more, okay?” Cleo’s voice had a soft quality to it, despite being loud enough to be audible over the continued thumping and whining of metal against metal.
False nodded in response, her breathing too irregular to produce a noise she anywhere near trusted to sound like proper words. Her sword dropped lower and lower as they walked away, but it never really left her hand. It felt like an anchor, in a way, keeping her in the there and then instead of spiralling further into panic. Her eyes were focussed on the end of the hallway, on the corner around which she knew would be the way out of there.
Suddenly, a figure came walking in from there, and it took a second to recognise the mass of armour and beard as TFC. Instead of weaponry, though, he had his trusty pickaxe in one hand, and a greenish orb False recognised as an ender pearl in the other. It was an odd combination, that much was sure, and she had no idea what he was going to use it for. Then again, since the vault was a thing of his making, there were probably some hidden things he knew about that would make all of this a whole lot easier. Not that it would matter too much for the fighter. She was getting out of there, slowly but surely.
Maybe a tad too slowly, though. Behind them, a final thud sounded, and the last bit of metal around the lock finally gave up with an ear-piercing shriek. The door burst open with a bang, and False couldn’t help but look over her shoulder as fear gripped tighter around her heart. Biffa stepped out, slowly, calculatingly, a look of malice in his eyes. The Hermits around him raised their weapons and shields, with Joe drawing his arrow back, ready to fire.
“Surrender, Biffa. We don’t want to hurt you,” Tango declared, a slight waver in his voice. It earned him the undivided attention of the robot. False winced as he stepped forwards by a pace. Then she saw TFC toss the ender pearl, and with a vwoop he landed behind the robot, pickaxe raised high above his head already. And then he let it come down hard, the flat side colliding with the metal plating. It didn’t immediately seem to have an effect, except for a very slow head turn and the appearance of a wicked grin.
“That was a mistake.”
For good measure, TFC tried again, except this time, Biffa saw the blow coming, grabbing hold of the handle mid-swing.
He’s out he’s out he’s gonna kill us all we’re doomed
That was the point where False decided to just close her eyes, making herself small. She could feel how Cleo wrapped a protective arm around her, she could hear someone yell ‘no!’ as the sound of more things being smacked against metal erupted. There was the clattering of weapons, there were groans, yelps, and footsteps, but the sensation of her communicator buzzing somehow didn’t happen. Was it broken? It surely had to be. There was no way no one had died yet. Not against Biffa.
And yet, not too long later, the sounds of combat died down. Still, False didn’t want to look, just in case her communicator was indeed broken. She did not want to look there, and see a hallway devoid of people, with just a killer coming her way. Honestly, she just about expected to feel a sharp blade pierce through her any moment now, except it didn’t come.
Instead, she could hear gentle coaxing words from Cleo, mutterings that mostly came down to it being over, to it being okay. Then other sounds started too, people speaking up, organising things.
“Just move him to one of the other apartments on this level, they have the same level of security. I’ll put in a new door here,” came TFC’s gruff voice, with an undertone of something in there.
How is he… not dead?
Finally, False opened her eyes, to see a blur of people moving around. It took her a moment to figure out the blur was because of tears that must have welled up at some point, and she very slowly wiped them away. The lump of pink and yellow on the ground was the first thing she focussed on. He didn’t move, but he wasn’t in the process of despawning either, so that was a thing. She wasn’t entirely sure if that was entirely a good thing, but it was start. She shakingly exhaled, and for the first time since coming down to that level, the fighter actually felt her heartbeat slow down to a more normal pace.
“What… what happened?” she asked as she watched Mumbo and Impulse lay down their shields next to the unconscious robot, before moving him on top of one of them.
“Well… A combination of Grandmother’s Footsteps and Whac-A-Mole, really. The old man gave a great example, and the others caught on quite quickly,” Cleo shrugged. “Hermits learn fast.”
Despite the fact that Hermits learned fast, though, it seemed like their strategy was not entirely without bloodshed. On closer inspection, it seemed like TFC was clutching his side, and Cub was sitting on the ground, head clutched between his hands as Doc stood next to him, worry on his face. The others had scratches and torn clothes, and a diamond pickaxe with blood on it lay on the ground, a testament to what had happened.
“That’s… good?” Her breathing had returned to a slightly more normal pace, though it was still high in her chest. Still, it was better than hyperventilating.
“Yep! For now, though, I’m going to get you a mug of hot cocoa and a blanket. You’re still shaking.” Once again, it didn’t feel like Cleo was going to accept no for an answer. False found herself nodding rather than vocally agreeing, and only now that she knew that she was safe – or at least, a lot safer than before – did she notice how draining the short encounter had been. Some sugars would be nice.
As such, she did not protest in the slightest when the zombie started leading her away from the others, and back up the ladder to a place where they could take a rest.
If this is an indication of how today is gonna go… Well. Void help us. Void help us all.
Notes:
*looks at the time*
yep, 3 am. again. whoops.
Chapter 65: Arc 2 - 17
Summary:
Spinning plates. Spring cleaning. The decision of a lifetime.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It took a long while before he had managed to tear his eyes away from his communicator. Had he not been as familiar with the code behind it, he could have simply brushed the message away as a horribly timed joke, but right now… That was not an option. Besides, none of his friends would do such a thing, and given that Arachne had only joined after… Well. Occam’s razor dictated the message had to be real. His brother was back, however impossible that seemed.
Xisuma spent some time pacing in the meeting room trying to think of a way this could have happened. At the very least the admin was relatively sure that he could narrow down the timeframe during which it had happened. After all, he had not seen anything about an unbanning in the logs at sunrise, and he was certain it wasn’t something he would overlook. This was exactly the type of anomaly he would look for.
Right. The logs. I should access the digital ones, to see what those can tell me before going on a wild goose chase.
Nodding to himself, he looked around, seeing that the others had not yet returned. Xisuma reckoned he would be able to get to his office and check the logs before they got back, probably, so he didn’t bother leaving a note or anything. Besides, if they really needed him, they could always just send a message and he’d be right there. And so, he walked back to his office, deep in thought.
Just how many more plates do I have to keep spinning? I know Evil X is more of a personal problem than one the others could help me deal with, but… Well. This is going to turn into a distraction. I NEED to figure out how he was unbanned in the first place before I even want to THINK about banning him again. If that code has somehow changed too… I do not want to be the one convicting someone to that fate, evil or not.
The admin opened the door, making a beeline for the extra screens he had hooked up over at his desk. Then he shoved the papers aside, and he got to work, delving into the logs. Something would be there, there simply had to be. But whatever it was, Xisuma certainly hoped it was not signs of another part of the cold logic of the world crumbling down around him. That was his one pillar of support. However strange things got with the Hermits, with the prank wars and the weird builds and the roleplaying, the world had always just stayed neutral and predictable and fine. Just code and admin magic that felt like home, like a safe haven to get away from the strangeness should he need it. To have that break apart…
No. I will not stand for that. I will patch it and repair it and revert it. I will figure this mess out, and I won’t let that brother of mine interfere. There’s too much at stake for that.
His round of dishing out food had gone quicker than he imagined, what with the flies in the second cell having been mostly out of it as he got there. Of course, there had been the red one, writhing on the floor, but that did not concern him. It was earned. After that had come the disposal of the uneaten food. That mostly came down to setting the plates out for the smaller spiders that had taken up residence in the various nooks and crannies. They happily skittered towards the slurp, ready for a feast. He could understand it from their hisses and clicks but didn’t really have a way to respond. Oh well. Not that it mattered. He was above them. With a shrug, he decided that he’d retrieve the plates later, when the smaller spiders were done with them.
As such, Sally now found himself back where he had started his day, dusting off the various things within the small shrine and relighting or replacing candles that had gone out. It would simply not do if this place was not perfect. Of course, the cobwebs in the various corners and around the pedestal could stay, but nothing would blemish the statue itself, not on his watch. With little care for any feelings the spiders might have he brushed them off the deepstone representation of his master, before gently cleaning off any and all filth and dust.
He worked in silence, focussed on his task, and it pleased him greatly that that other voice stayed quiet. It was finally learning its place, or so it seemed. Either that, or it had run out of energy to yell and scream. As far as he knew, it also wasn’t trying to push and take control as it had done before. Sally scoffed. Those little outbursts had been pathetic at best and moderately annoying at worst, but it did seem as though he was finally getting rid of that blemish in his mind, brushing it away and discarding it, much like the grime in the shrine.
About time, too. That pesky voice was distracting.
Nevertheless, the fact that it was basically gone pleased him. And all he got to show for that were the corners of his lips, raised but a millimetre on his mask of perfect neutrality.
The failure to free Wels of the gag had hit him hard, so much harder than he had expected. It was just another blow to the small amount of hope he had left, knocking away part of the one pillar of support he had. The knight’s words inspired courage and hope in the direst of situations, but that comfort was taken away from him now that he needed it most. Those thoughts that weren’t his own were becoming more and more prevalent as time ticked on, and there was still no sign of getting out of this place. Of course, logically he knew the Hermits would try to come and save them, but the emphasis there was on ‘try’. He had seen the preparations for it, just as he had seen how other things were prioritised over it. Had they just gone ahead with the mission after they had captured Biffa, then he would not have been here in the first place. If Doc had just listened to him when he had told him he sucked at combat, he would not have been here. His hand found his coat, grabbing it tightly and balling into a fist around part of the fabric.
Maybe they just wanted you gone…
Scar blinked, not entirely sure what to do or say against it.
They don’t care for you, now do they?
He shook his head, trying to get rid of the thought.
Nor do they care for anyone else here.
“Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up,” he muttered, earning him a weird look from Wels.
They’re just playing a game…
He closed his eyes shut, hands clutching his head.
… to see how many things they can prioritize over rescuing you.
The landscaper let out a whine, while the knight made a noise that sounded like a muffled version of his name.
Not that you need to be rescued. You’re perfectly safe!
One of his hands almost automatically moved down to the collar. It sure felt sturdy and safe, but he knew better.
Just give in, it will make everything easier. You know you want to.
At this point, Scar swallowed, then heavily shook his head.
“No, head, I do want to- I don’t want to submit. Not to them. Not to them,” he said through gritted teeth, building in volume as he went.
Are you sure about that?
Wels came closer, putting a hand on his shoulder. It grounded him, at the very least to some extent. The knight hummed a familiar melody, too, but right there and then it just felt wrong. Grating. Scar knew the words were about attaining freedom, but at that point, he was not certain in the slightest where he could find that freedom, which choice would be best in the long run.
“N-no…” he choked out eventually, as he grasped Wels’ wrist, squeezing it. “Just… just shut up. Please, I can’t stand it.”
The humming wavered for a second as he felt the knight’s fingers contract.
If you just give in, you won’t have to listen to it anymore.
The grating song continued as though it had not stopped, and the landscaper let go, pressing his hands over his ears to block it out. He thought he felt Wels hesitantly letting go of his shoulder, too, or maybe he had just smacked his wrist away, he wasn’t too sure. What he was sure about was that either way, it allowed him to move further away, out of reach.
See? Wels doesn’t care about your feelings. He would have listened to your request, otherwise.
Scar crumpled up smaller as he hugged himself, back turned at the other man.
He just wants to sing his little song to feel better about himself.
A shudder went through him as his breath caught in his throat.
If he cared about you, he wouldn’t have declined the offer to have the gag removed. He would’ve stopped at nothing to help you.
He was quite sure he felt a tear drip down his face, and he was vaguely aware of the loud jangle of chains.
And yet, here he is, putting his pride above his friends. Or maybe he never saw you as one to begin with.
“No…” he whispered, more as a token bit of resistance than anything else. It would be so much easier to just stop resisting it.
There is someone that will be your friend, though. Unlike those that just pretend to be for their own gain.
More tears rolled down his face. He just wanted a hug, and to be told it was all going to be okay. Was that too much to ask?
It will be okay, little spider. You’ll be safe and cared for, and everything will be fine. Don’t you want that?
This time, it didn’t take him nearly as long to find an answer.
“I… I think I would like that, yes…” he choked out, and his tears stopped. Behind him, the jangling of chains got joined by a more than worried sound, but he found no need to listen to such performative nonsense. He squared his shoulders and closed his eyes as he breathed out.
As he looked up again, his green eyes were filled with a hazy bliss that smothered away all his fears, everything he had felt bad about forgotten, simple as that. For the first time in hours, he smiled of his own volition.
Notes:
im gonna end this one with a profound "sorry scar"
a bit shorter than the few before, i know, but the characters literally did not want to cooperate.
Chapter 66: Arc 2 - 18
Summary:
Think of me, think of me fondly...
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
In a way, it was very therapeutic to watch the batter very slowly turn solid and golden. It was even more so as she played connect-the-dots with the airholes that appeared here and there or did the equivalent of cloud watching with the browned spots after flipping. It helped her push almost all thoughts away. Of course, there would always be a few left, nagging her brain about this or that, reminding her of the situation, but Stress would love to not have to think about it all for a bit. Quite frankly, though it had only been four or five days, it was tiring to have something like this near constantly on her mind. A moment to breathe was nice.
She prodded the pancake in the pan with her spatula, before flipping it over. It seemed perfectly done, and to make it better she was pretty sure one of the darker blotches was shaped like a heart. Not an anatomical heart, but like, a proper heart. The type she’d scribble into the margins of notes or the type she’d dot her i’s with. The ice queen couldn’t help but smile as she saw it. Perhaps it was a sign of the universe that things would indeed be alright. Perhaps it was simply the random way heat had affected some batter. Either way, she chose to believe in the first option.
That was also the moment she opted to start softly singing again, as she gently moved the pancake from the pan to the small stack she had already finished.
“Think of me, think of me fondly, when we’ve said goodbye. Remember me, every so often, promise me you’ll try…” She was feeling particularly operatic right there and then, and though she most definitely knew she hadn’t warmed up her voice properly enough to even hope to nail the last bit of vocalising the song held, but that did not stop her from trying. Stress went through the familiar lyrics, imagining the bombastic instruments that would generally play in the background of the song.
Jevin didn’t complain about it one moment, instead opting for simply giving a sceptical look. A look that he managed to keep up until she started dramatically waving around the bottle of syrup for lack of a scarf. Instead, she saw how he slowly relaxed, his lips actually very slowly curling into a smile.
“Thiiiiiiiink ooooof August, when the wooooorld was green. Don’t think about theeeee way thiiiiings might have beeeeeen…”
The dramatic waving of the bottle now turned into dramatic pouring of said syrup over the pancakes, drowning them in a healthy amount of the sticky stuff. It was exactly right, how it should be. Only the butter was missing still, but she’d get to that.
“Think of me, think of me waaaaaking, silent and reeeesigned. Imagine me, trying too haaaaard to puuuuut you from my miiiiiind…”
She turned on her heels, feeling the sudden urge to just move in time with the words, and in the process managed to also spill syrup over the kitchen counter and part of the floor. It earned her a healthy chuckle from Jevin, and if she was remembering correctly that was the first time she’d heard him make such a sound since he had returned. It made the prospect of having to actually clean up the syrup worth it. Not even almost worth it, just worth it.
“Think of meeee, please say you’ll think of meeeee, whatever eeeeeelse you choose to do. There will never beeeeee a day when I won’t thiiiiiiiiiiiink of yoooooouuuuuu! ”
However, knowing she would rather not have to clean all of the kitchen again, her next set of moves consisted of putting the bottle of syrup back in its proper place, and instead picking up the stick of butter and a knife. Those were certainly things she could dramatically wave around without as much chance of spillage. Stress conducted her song with the knife even though she knew next to nothing about conducting, finding little moments here and there to cut off a bit of butter and to deposit it on the pancakes. It even went remarkably well, which almost seemed like an impossibility given her track record in the kitchen. Still, it was a welcome change.
Instead of also singing the second part of the duet, the ice queen decided to just hum the lines as she basically danced over to Jevin, to put the stack of pancakes in front of him. Then, as an afterthought, she went and got some cutlery for him.
“Thanks, Stress,” he said, licking the area around his mouth where most creatures had lips. “These look great!”
In return, she just nodded, mentally already preparing for the last bit of the song. It was the most difficult bit, she knew that, and her chances of success were relatively small, but that kind of chance generally didn’t stop any of the Hermits. She twirled where she stood, her pink vest twirling along with her, and then it was time for her to sing once more.
“Flowers fade, the fruits of Summer fade, they have their seeeeaaaaasons, so do we. But please promise meeeee that soooometimes yoooouuuu wiiiiiiill thiiiiiink….”
Stress took a deep breath, and then started vocalising, moving her hands along as she went. Up and down, higher and lower, in time with the music she was imagining. She got the vibrato in the right places, so far so good, but as she climbed higher and higher, she started to doubt herself. In the last pause before the climax, she knew she was already hitting her limit, and that she couldn’t sing the last bit softly for fear of the note just not coming out at all. Not that she had been singing softly towards the end anyway, her volume had gone up the further she got along.
As the climax to the song came, it didn’t take half a second for her to know she was missing the note she was supposed to be pushing out. What came out instead was… Well. Jevin was clutching the sides of his head despite not having ears, which was saying something. He seemed to still be smiling though as she went through, throwing her hands up in the air to stress the notes.
“Ooooof meeeeeee!” she finished, though it lacked a bit of the conviction of the earlier parts of the song. At the very least she hadn’t shattered any of the glasses or mugs in the room, which was a win in her book. Still, Stress was pouting more than a little.
“Is it finally over?” Jevin asked dramatically, before a grin appeared on his face. “I thiiiiiiink you were slightly off there, Stress.” The ice queen glared at him, before glaring up at the knife that was still in her hand and then back at the slime man. Then her expression softened a little bit as she laughed.
“Oh, shut up you! I don’t see you doing it better, innit? Go on then!” She went to lean against the counter as she gestured for him to go right ahead and outperform her.
“I uh… I… can’t. Not if you want to keep your eardrums, that is,” Jevin stammered after a few seconds.
“That’s what I thought, luv. Now go and eat your pancakes, yeah? Wouldn’t want them growing cold.” She smiled, her entire demeanour softening as she did. He nodded in response, taking up his fork and knife to take his first bite. Stress watched as he did so, and as such had a very good view of how the bit of food disappeared into his mouth, moved around in there a few times, and then moved on through his neck and down into his sweater. It was a little bit gross to see, but it wasn’t the first time she witnessed this. Such were the side effects of being friends with a slime person.
“Mmmm… Stress, these are really good!” he said after a few more bites, his mouth still full, making his words barely intelligible. Still, it brought a smile to her face to see him be this happy about something, even though she was quite sure it was probably not going to last forever.
“I know, right? Just let me know if you want more, alright luv?” she said, before looking around at the mess she had once again managed to make of the kitchen and shrugging.
Probably best to clean up that syrupy goodness before everything here sticks together.
And so, she grabbed a few tissues as well as a rag to clean with – she knew where to find those by now – and got to work as Jevin continued eating. For now, it seemed like everything was fine, but Stress knew the raid was coming up soon. This peace… It felt like the calm before the storm, somehow, but she was reluctant to think of it that way. Storms often entailed bad things happening, and right now, she wanted to focus on the good stuff.
She would think of the good times she had had, and perhaps she would just think back to August. It wasn’t long ago, after all, but everything had been so different then. She had worked on her ice fortress and built a minigame with very cute horsies – I should swing by there and check if they still have enough hay. There had been some shenanigans with the hot potato too, and Keralis had returned to the world, and… So much. So much had happened, so many good times were had.
A small smile formed on her face as she continued cleaning up the syrup. While this moment was mostly for Jevin to come back to his senses a little, it turned out she had needed it too. A moment to just sit and think of good times and good things, to recharge her hope for the future a little bit.
Those things are what we’re doing it for, isn’t it? For spending time with friends, for having fun, for building the most ridiculous things just because we can? For unintentional building contests, for shops and minigames, for inventing new farms and things… We’re doing this cause we’re Hermits in nothing but the name and yet, at the same time, in everything. This is who we are. This is what we do.
“You okay there, Stress? I think that bit of floor is cleaner than it ever has been by now,” Jevin said, pulling her out of her thoughts. Without her really noticing, she had indeed just been scrubbing the same floor tile over and over, neglecting the trail of syrup that continued on just a little bit in front of her.
“Of course! I was just… Reminiscing, you know? I blame that song,” she chuckled, looking briefly at the slime man as she did.
“Ah, I was already wondering… I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so happy to be cleaning before. I’d almost ask you to help sort out my fidget spinner, there’s probably ash and soot-“
About that was as far as he came before Stress had chucked the cleaning rag straight into his face. Almost literally, even, given that it took maybe a second longer than she expected before it fell down into his lap.
“Alright, I deserved that,” he admitted, his face staying straight for a moment before laughing.
“Damn right you did!”
Yes, this is exactly what we do it for.
Notes:
fluff? in caught in the spiders web? its more likely than youd think.
this is the song stress was singing, by the way
Chapter 67: Arc 2 - 19
Summary:
The storm after the calm.
Notes:
a warning in front that the general tone of this chapter is a tad on the negative side.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
His breathing was shakier than he would like. That was at the very least something he had no doubt or second guesses about. Most of the rest… not so much. His thoughts felt misaligned, but it was hard to figure out which way they needed to shift in in order to be good again. Or what ‘good’ was, in his case. Of course, Iskall knew he should be concerned about the things he was saying, and about the things Ren was saying, but a growing part of him kept agreeing and adding to the feedback loop.
And yet… At the same time, he knew that this was the way it was supposed to be. Or at least, that was what his mind kept telling him. The swede has resisted it, in the beginning, but the longer he and Ren talked… Well. That resistance had slowly subsided, slowly but surely. After all, they just could let it win. It wouldn’t even be hard. It wouldn’t even feel bad. If anything, it would be freeing, both in the literal and in the metaphorical sense. He knew that, and yet, he didn’t. He did not let it win, because he knew it would not free him.
Still, the parts of him preaching that opinion were quieting down. They still made him recoil slightly every time the other parts made him say something awful about his friends, or when he nodded in agreement when the hippie did the same. They didn’t manage to stop him from smiling when he looked back at Python, though. His tears and attempts at whimpering in protest of what was happening looked pathetic, if anything, even though the mere action of smiling also made Iskall’s gut turn.
“If you had just submitted earlier, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” the swede found himself saying, and while it was technically true, the parts of him that were still just him were disagreeing with the mere thought of even speaking those words. “Not that this is bad, per se, but- no, wait, wait, wait, this is bad. Isn’t. No, is.”
“I fully agree, my dude. This isn’t bad. Is. I swear this is what I wanted- isn’t what I wanted to say.” Some thing or another played on Ren’s face, but the swede didn’t quite know what. “God, brain, can you stop? Can you just…? They’ll come. They’ll come, I know it.”
Iskall shook his head.
“It’s been what, four days now, since Grian was brought here? A day since that traitor sent them the coordinates? Wels. I mean Wels. Wels sent the coordinates. Either way, that’s time enough to get here. They aren’t here. They won’t be here.” He grimaced as he got to the conclusion. He had hopes, of course. Hopes that they would come. A hope he could not get himself to speak out loud. That hope was dwindling rapidly, though, with every minute that passed, with every word either him or Ren spoke.
Speaking of Ren, the swede could see a green glint in his eyes now, almost like a powered down version of what Not Grian had had.
I want that… It’s even a nice Iskallium green…
Iskall frowned, banning the thought from his head. If he wanted green eyes, he could always see if someone in cyborg club could help him customise his diamond eye. Make it an emerald eye, or something.
Why wait, though?
“You know, I think you may have a point there,” Ren said softly, and there was something in his voice that the swede did not trust in the slightest. The green in his eyes was getting stronger rapidly, growing on and on and on, stronger and stronger. And inside of him, Iskall felt something rising along with it. Fear. And it was not fear because of what was happening to Ren. It was because he felt envious about it.
“Ren…?” he asked. His voice had a shaky quality to it, not entirely sure what the hell was going on anymore.
“You’re right. They won’t come.”
Python picked that moment to let out a drawn-out whine cut off by a hiccup and a sob. Ren sent over a look that was a strange mix of pity and sadism.
“We should all just have given in earlier. Imagine how much pain and suffering we would have dodged, my dudes.” He blinked, and where the green had only been a glint before it, his eyes were glowing after it. Instinctively, he knew the Ren he knew was gone. Not fully, perhaps, as they had seen with Grian and Not Grian, but for all intents and purposes, this was Not Ren.
His brain had two intense but opposite reactions to that. The first was a sobering fear, a knowledge that the same would be happening to him too sooner rather than later. He didn’t want to be like that, or at least, part of him didn’t. The second reaction was a deep longing for it to just happen to him already. The conflict inside him seized him up, fighting for dominance and the right to respond.
“No!” Python managed to push out, his voice straining. For the first time since waking up, Iskall looked at him with genuine remorse. He knew Ren and him had basically sacrificed themselves for the snake man, but couldn’t imagine, didn’t want to imagine how this all would make Python feel. After all, had he not said to let Arachne kill him, to not give in? And yet, here they were.
Don’t you want to join your friend? Don’t you want to leave all of this behind you? It would be easier…
Iskall frowned harshly, trying to unthink the thoughts, focussing on the there and then. It was… somehow easier, he found. Easier than before. Ren actually giving in or giving up or losing or whatever it was he had just done was certainly helping that. Maybe it was the shock, or the realisation of what was to come. Maybe it was because he had thought he would have been the first one to give in, and not Ren. Or maybe it was just because he realised what it would mean for Python if he let it happen too. Or maybe, just maybe, it was a mix of all of those, uniting together against those thoughts that beautiful ugly mark had brought with it.
He swallowed as he watched how the hippie went and kneeled, then looked him straight in the eye. The gaze made him uncomfortable, and that was just the gaze alone. He wasn’t even saying anything, for goodness sake, he was just looking. As though he was waiting for something. As though he knew something was going to happen soon and wanted to see it play out. The swede did not like that in the slightest. Not even a little bit.
Well? Get on with it, then. You know it is inevitable. Why let yourself suffer like this? Give in, and that will all be over.
Once again, Iskall struggled to get the thought out of his head, but it was just that little bit more persistent this time. Parts of him screamed to keep fighting, and there were parts of him that wanted to go along with every single word his thoughts brought him, but for now the fighting side was winning.
“Because I have to try. I would hate myself if I let it go that easily. Besides… Python didn’t give up either.” He spoke his words louder than he may have wanted to do, but it didn’t matter. It had some effect, too, pushing the side of him that was fighting just a little bit further ahead. That, and it made Not Ren grin. Were there always that many teeth in his mouth? Had they always looked that sharp? It must have been a trick of the light, or something in his eyes. Or all of that in combination with his hair, that framed his face in uneven locks, the withered remains of flowers still tucked into it here and there. He had somehow grown more animalistic and wilder as he sat there, completely still and staring as if scoping out prey. Even though Iskall did not want to admit it, Not Ren scared him. A lot.
All your fears would just drift away if you made the right choice.
“What, and run away from it like a coward?” the swede answered, almost growling the last word. And then he felt guilty about saying it like that, because all things considered, he would not call Ren a coward. Or Grian, for that matter. Still, despite his want to oppose, he felt how some of the fighting bits of him turned neutral instead. Not quite agreeing with the parts that said he should just give in, but not opposing them either.
You would feel so much better. Think of all the worries that would just vanish.
“I think I would rather worry and be myself, thanks.”
Python made some more noises that sounded like words, and Iskall let his attention drift away from Not Ren and his teeth. The snake man was still crying, it seemed, and he was begging with his eyes. Occasionally, he would convulse in pain, but mostly, he managed to more or less keep eye contact.
“P-pleashe…” he managed to bring out. “Don’t” - he took a moment to bite his teeth together to stifle a groan - “leave.”
As if Iskalls heart didn’t hurt enough yet.
“I-“ he started, before more thoughts cut him off.
Isn’t he selfish, for wanting you to stay with him? You should not have to watch him suffer because of his own mistakes.
The swede swallowed. Python had caused the situation- No. Why would he even think that way?
“Shut up. Python is my friend. I won’t leave him alone.”
Is he really? It’s not like you two talked much before.
For a moment, Iskall thought. I had been true. Of course, he had seen Python around, and they had spoken during meetings, but… It was not like they ever hanged out or anything.
See? If he had liked you, you would have spent more time together.
“I don’t-“
Just give in, and people will actually like you. They will actually be proud of you.
The comments went right for his insecurities. Iskall blinked, his heart aching. His eyes went from Python, that was reaching out a hand, desperately trying to grasp his, to Not Ren, that was still just staring at him. The swede had the strange feeling that the hippie had been licking his lips while he had looked away but had no way of proving it.
He glanced back and forth between the two, as his mind pressured him on to give in, to let go, to fully embrace the mark. It told him that everything would be alright, that he would be cared for, that he would leave those behind that would only want him around for selfish reasons, that he would be in good company. It said a lot of good things, and slowly but surely, he felt his resistance crumbling.
The world went all blurry and Iskall could feel hot droplets dripping down his face. It had been true, what he had said earlier. He hated himself for the choice he was about to make. He hated that he was giving in. He hated that he had let the sweettalk of his the thoughts get to him, and he hated that it had been that easy. Perhaps he was more of a coward than he wanted to admit, and perhaps he cared or worried too much about what others would think of him. Yeah… What would they think of him?
They would be disappointed. We won’t. You will be welcomed with open arms, little spider.
He did not like the nickname given by his thoughts one bit. Iskall reached out for Pythons hand and grabbed it, careful to not put too much pressure on the wounds. Then he looked at him, turning his body partially away from Not Ren.
“Iskall…” the snake man breathed, his face still a mess. However, where Iskall was holding on to just that little bit of hope that maybe seeing his friend, really seeing his acquaintance friend would somehow miraculously help him, he found that it didn’t do anything. The thoughts were still there, loud, so loud he could barely hear himself think anymore. His breathing was shaky, and he had a feeling like his nose was clogged with rejected tears.
“I- I’m so sorry,” he whispered, before closing his eye, reaching backwards with his other hand. Slowly, his chest found the right rhythm again, and as one hand grabbed his, he let go of the other.
He thought he heard Python scream, but if he did, he didn’t care. His mind was calm again, devoid of thoughts calling for his attention in this way or that. He simply was.
Notes:
this chapter is one of the few that actually hurt to write
so yeah.
im sorry, endbusters.
Chapter Text
He was pacing the room anxiously. There wasn’t a lot he could do at that moment, but Mumbo just could not sit still. His mind was working too hard for that. The last remnants of adrenalin were still coursing through his system, courtesy of Biffa, but he was getting better, slowly but surely. It was like the few moments after being almost blown up by a creeper, except longer and more stretched out. It was that feeling of being watched, of expecting another danger to come and finish you off. Of course, it would be ridiculous for another danger to be here, but… Well. Unlike creepers, Biffa did not disappear after his initial attack. Biffa was still there, and it wasn’t known when he would wake up again. He just hoped the robot would stay out of it until after Impulse and Keralis had finished tying him up once more.
Mumbo hoped the ropes would actually be able to hold him this time.
He winced as he felt the buzz of his communicator in his pocket, not quite ready to read more bad news. Still, given that the others in the room didn’t even look up from what they were doing… Maybe it wasn’t bad news? The redstoner stopped pacing and took out his communicator. It had indeed not been a message in the group chat. Instead, though…
His heart skipped a beat as he saw who had sent it, and a strange feeling of deja-vu washed over him as he read the contents.
<Iskall85> If you let anyone know you received these messages, you will never see your friends again.
The blood drained from his face as he realised it was not Iskall that had sent the message. It could not be. Deep down, he had known it already, and while it had been silly to even consider getting his hopes up, he still had. Call it optimism. Call it just really wanting his closest friends back.
<Iskall85> I have a task for you.
Mumbo bit his lip, staring at the communicator before looking up at the others. It seemed like they hadn’t noticed yet that he had received a message. He felt shaky on his legs, and wanted nothing more than to just tell them, to tell them everything. At the same time, though… Did he really want to risk it? Did he really want to gamble the lives and minds of his friends on that spidery bastard not noticing what he would do? It had been nagging at the back of his mind since he first found that damned book, and now they were sending him messages as well?
Quite suddenly, his legs felt quite unsteady, and it almost felt like he had become smaller in his skin. Had he missed something? Was that why they had resorted to just directly messaging him? Had he messed up somehow?
“I… I’m going outside for a moment. I- I need some fresh air.” His words were more than a little shaky, and Keralis looked up.
“You okay, Bumbo? You look a little pale. Well, more than a little, really. Doesn't suit your beautiful face, if you ask me," he said, clear worry in his eyes. Mumbo didn’t get much further than listening up until three words in, when the nickname immediately made him think back to a certain moustachioed cactus made by Iskall. He knew it would still be somewhere in the last world they had lived in, but its brethren had spread and branched out. Coming out of the thought, he just found Keralis staring at him, and he stumbled over his words to answer without it seeming strange.
"Oh, uh, yeah, it's just... I just really need that fresh air, you know? It's a bit... I don't know, I can't stand the air in here all of a sudden, too musty if you ask me. I'll just... I'll be outside for a moment. As in, properly outside. Yes. I need some alone time." Mumbo was sure that that would almost come over as not suspicious in the slightest. He hoped Keralis wouldn't go and question it all too much. After all, he was not entirely sure how to defend it further. It wasn't like he could just tell him that the fate of some of the Hermits was dependent on whether or not he managed to beat his anxiety and told people about the plans of their enemy. If he asked for more reasoning, he would just have to say something about air quality and needing to calm down from the fight they had just had.
"Not to worry, not to worry! Go and take care of yourself, okay?" asked the wide-eyed man instead. "Just make sure you don't go out alone too far, okay? I'm sure Joe wouldn't like to have to fish you up out of the ocean again." The wink he added to the end was supposed to make the statement into a little bit of a joke, but if you asked Mumbo, it fell a little bit flat.
"He told you, then?" His voice was soft and self-conscious, laced with guilt.
"Mmhmm, he did." There was no judgement in Keralis’ tone, which at the very least was a good thing.
"Gosh, I'll never live that down, will I?" Mumbo sighed, glancing at his communicator again. There had not been a new message yet, but he was sure it would come in time.
"We're just happy you're alive and still here, you know?" Impulse interspersed. "That being said... No, when this is over, I don't think we'll let you live that down." He smiled, and the redstoner found himself smiling a little bit too. Normalcy like this... It was strange, how that had partially fallen away at basically the snap of some monstrous fingers.
"Thanks, guys. That being said, I'll go and grab that air now." His legs felt a little bit steadier as he started to walk away from the unconscious robot and the cell they had put him in. Instead of going outside of the bunker, however, he went and found his way to one of the sleeping quarters. He looked at the bed and chair for a moment, before shrugging and leaving through the door at the opposite side of the room, stepping into the indoor park with the fake sky. It was mostly deserted, which was nice, in a way. There were just a few armour stands doing their thing, mostly standing around and sitting near a campfire. His eyes were trained on the fire for a short moment, before he decided that he had seen enough fire for a while. Instead, he walked to the small pond, sitting down at the edge of it, near a wall. That way, he would be able to see anyone coming in or approaching him. At least, he hoped so. That would be nice.
Again, he took out his communicator, opening it straight to the private messages he had received. Still nothing from that spidery bastard. That being said, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing. Just... answering? Saying he was there and listening? He didn't really want to. Besides, if ignoring it meant that no task would come... That would mean he didn't have to endanger his friends or do something else that would come to bite him in the backside later, wouldn't it? Or was that just a gross underestimation of the situation? He wasn't sure.
The buzz of his communicator and the new message notification solved that issue for him, though.
<Iskall85> You will tell me the name of the Worldshaper. You will take their communication device, and you will leave it with the book.
Mumbo blinked.
Worldshaper…? Do they mean like a terraformer or something? But… That can apply to everyone! Mostly Scar, though, but… Didn’t he…?
The next question was whether he could just continue ignoring-
<Iskall85> I know you are reading this.
<Iskall85> I expect these tasks to be done within a day.
<Iskall85> If you fail… Well.
<Iskall85> I don’t think I need to tell you what happens.
The redstoner felt his heart sink a little bit. He did know what would happen, the book had been abundantly clear about that. He just really didn’t know what the task needed him to do. Still, whatever it was they wanted him to do… It was a step up from affecting spawners or digging a hole in a place or telling his friends to walk into a trap. Communicators were important. No one he knew would willingly part with theirs. Literally no one. He bit his lip, staring at the box awaiting his response. The cursor blinked, and it felt like it was taunting him.
<MumboJumbo> Look, I don’t even know what this… what a worldshaper is
<MumboJumbo> So how do you expect me to give you their name and communicator?
The words were out and sent before he knew it, and he felt his gut drop. It could well have been a mistake to say that. If you question me or my instructions, there will be punishment. That’s what the book had said, right above the line about failure. He knew, the lines had basically burnt themselves into his brain with the number of times he had read them.
Did that count as questioning? I mean, I did ask questions, but… It’s more to be able to actually maybe do what they ask?
He laid the small bit of technology on the ground next to him, then dropped his head into his hands.
“Why me? Why does it have to be me?” he asked himself out loud. To his side, his communicator buzzed once, then twice.
<Iskall85> I presume you would call it an ‘administrator’.
He swore it wasn’t possible, but he could almost feel the disdain dripping from their words.
<Iskall85> How you procure their device is something you will have to deal with on your own.
<Iskall85> Now… What is their name?
For the briefest of moments, Mumbo considered straight-up tossing his communicator into the pond in the hopes of it short-circuiting and shutting down. Of course, he knew very well that the thing was waterproof and that it wouldn’t help him a whole lot, but still. Instead, he just found himself staring at the words, reading them over and over and over again until they didn’t even sound like real words anymore.
They want to get Xisuma. Oh my word. They want to get X. I can’t… I can’t just let them do that. I… What do I do? Risk Grian and Iskall and the others? Or… Risk everyone else? Gods, I want to talk to someone about this. Someone. Anyone. Okay, well, not anyone but any Hermit. Maybe… Just maybe…
<Iskall85> Tick, tock, little fly…
“Xisuma will know what to do…” he muttered, before switching off the screen of his communicator and shoving it back into his pocket. This… This was the point where he was going to ask for help. If he just… If he made sure that there were no spiders or anything in the room when he asked X, surely nothing could go wrong, right?
“It has to go right. It simply has to. What else am I supposed to do? Just tell them?” He sighed. “Right. Xisuma.”
Mumbo stood up, nodding to himself. He wasn’t too sure what caused him to look up at the mural of fake trees, but what he saw made his heart skip a beat.
“Oh no. No, no, no, no. I… No.” He stared at the green-eyed spider, and the spider stared back at him. He realised full well he had just said X’s name about twice, out loud, where that creature could hear it. This could potentially be really bad. Were spiders able to hear? Mumbo glanced around. He didn’t know, but it was not a chance he was willing to take. He rummaged through his inventory, pulling out a torch that automatically lit up as he did so.
Fire. Kill it with fire. Now.
The redstoner didn’t need to think twice before going right ahead with that plan. He held up the torch up high, and within seconds the spider was no more.
Seconds later, he felt his communicator buzz in his pocket. He swallowed, then shakily took it out again. He really hoped it wasn’t Iskall. Or well, not Iskall. The hope didn’t hold out for long, though.
<Iskall85> I had really hoped you wouldn’t do that.
<Iskall85> Oh well.
<Iskall85> The consequences are yours to bear.
Notes:
Mumbo really can't catch a break, now can he?
Chapter 69: Arc 2 - 21
Summary:
Get your head in the game
Notes:
TW for messy perception of reality that gets gradually worse. If it gets too much, skip to "Then that same ground [...]"
This chapter touches on the subjects of brain damage and strokes. If that ain't your jam, feel free to skip it, I'll recap the important points in the end notes.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
After all these years, it seemed his brain had finally decided to pick up on the noble art of mining. At the very least, that’s what it felt like. Every beating throb was as though his brain was smacking a pickaxe against his skull in an attempt to get out and break free. Cub was clutching his head with both hands, eyes closed so as to not let the presence of light worsen the situation. The noises around him were annoying enough already.
He wasn’t even sure whether it was better or worse than it had been before. He was quite certain he had been out of it for at least a little bit, because he had no memory in the slightest between the point where Biffa had struck him across the temple with a pickaxe and finding himself laying on the ground after the battle was over and done. Perhaps that was for the better, and perhaps it wasn’t, only time would really be able to tell. Cub felt like the sounds of combat would probably only have made his headache worse, as the scrape of metal against stone or the rustle of clothes or the stomping of boots on floor tiles or the sound of him breathing already sent white-hot thrums of pain through his head.
It would be so lovely to just lay on a nice and soft bed for a while. Preferably in a dark room, far away from all the trouble. The thing was, Cub was sure that they didn’t really have the time for such luxuries. Didn’t they have a raid to plan and execute?
He let out a groan at the mere thought of having to move and actually do things. Almost immediately, he felt a hand land on his shoulder, heavy and slightly cold. Metal, probably.
“How are you doing, buddy? Anything I can do for you?”
Doc’s voice seemingly temporarily lent his brain a drill, the beats of his syllables and words coinciding neatly with fresh new waves of skullsplittery. Cub inhaled sharply through his teeth. One hand left the side of his head, instead finding his lips and making the universal sign of shut your mouth.
“Oh, right. Yes. Sorry. That was quite a blow you caught there.”
Once more, Cub groaned, before making the same sign again, more insistently this time. How difficult was it really to just be quiet for a moment? Or like, to whisper a little bit?
It’s still nice that he’s checking in on me, though. I appreciate that.
This time, Doc sounded a lot more considerate when he whispered an apology. It was silent for a bit, and then Cub heard the rustle of cloth brushing past the wall next to him, followed by a soft thud as something hard and clanky found its way to the ground. Like someone in armour sitting down on the floor. The capitalist gently rubbed his temple, then stopped doing so when he realised it felt a lot more sticky and wet than it probably should. A soft curse rolled over his lips before he very gingerly opened his eyes a little bit, to not let in too much light all at once.
It’s probably too optimistic to hope it’s just sweat.
He moved his hand a little to be in his sight, and indeed, there was red on it. Both the darker, rusty red of blood that had dried a little, and the purer scarlet of fresh blood. Cub sighed. The regen beacon would help solve it, but it was still annoying as hell to be bleeding. The fact that he was quite certain the floor wasn’t where the floor was didn’t really help his situation much further. Still, that was something he could ignore for now.
“Doc…?” he said softly. “Can you get me a wet towel or something? And some bandages, I guess.” Speaking somehow was less bad than he had expected it to be, which was at the very least something, but just about everything was said with that.
“Hmm? Of course. I’ll see if I can find a healing potion for you too, you-“
“Ditch the potion, Doc, I don’t need it. Save it for the raid.”
Did Doc always… did he… volume? No, no, that isn’t the right letters.
He frowned as he tried to find the right words to think with, but his headache was playing a typical high school bully, knocking them out of his hands every time he thought he had a grasp on something. That being said, he should just be able to more or less ignore it and keep trying and it should work out in the end, right?
Meanwhile, the cyborg was silent, and Cub could feel his gaze prickling on his skin. The capitalist was quite sure that Doc was calculating his next move, but he had already made his decision. What he had was simply a scratch. A simple scratch that bled a little and gave him a headache. Sure, it would probably also bruise quite badly, but if that was all, he was more than happy to live with that. It wasn’t something he would sacrifice a health potion for, especially not this close to the raid. Besides, barring more unforeseen problems, he probably would spend his time coordinating said raid while within the reach of a regen beacon.
From his side came an annoyed sigh.
“You know they literally only cost some gold, melon, and water, right? Plus maybe some glowstone, for some extra punch.“ It seemed like Doc didn’t particularly want to let it go, and Cub turned to look at him. Perhaps a little too quickly, as his vision seemed to lag behind a little, and when it finally caught up to reality a wave of nausea came crashing over him. His eyelid twitched for a moment, before he exhaled, and the wave receded a little.
“Doc. I know, but it’s not that bad. I’ll be fine. The regen is enough.” Perhaps he snapped a little bit harder than he should have, but at the same time, even thinking of arguments made his head hurt.
“If you say so man…” Doc stood up, the scraping of his armour moving past the stone of the floor and wall being just about as elegant and soft as nails being dragged over a chalkboard. Cub flinched, closing his eyes and clasping his hands over his ears to block out the sound, because it was only making his head hurt more. And that wasn’t too good if he wanted to convince Doc that he didn’t need the health potion.
A hand patted him on the shoulder twice before he vaguely heard footsteps walking away from him, and the capitalist dropped his hands down a little. There wasn’t too much noise now, except for the occasional grunts coming from TFC, who was repairing a door not too far away. Cub knew the old man was wounded as well, but it seemed like he had chosen to prioritise the integrity of his bunker - no, it’s a vault, he corrected internally - over healing. Of course, if he were to mention anything about it, that would be hypocritical, and as such he didn't. TFC was old and wise enough to make his own decisions, and Cub was not going to stop him from doing so. Why would he?
He exhaled slowly, trying to just relax a little. If he focussed hard enough he knew he would be able to feel the gentle tingle of the beacon effect wash over him, trying to knit his skin back together where it was necessary, as well as to heal any other bits that needed it. If he focussed just a little harder, he might even be able to realign the ground, so it wasn’t slowly tilting away anymore.
Ground… moving? Of course, of course, I just need to… vision. Yes. I just need to vision and it’ll be fine. Aaaaaaaall fine.
He dragged his eyes back open, and he was quite certain he could actually feel his eyelids shift over his cornea, but it was nothing compared to the assault of light that came in. Had the hallway always been that bright? He moved up his hand to block out some of the light from a nearby lamp, and his eyes found the line where the floor met the wall. It looked straight enough, but it felt wrong somehow. Not in sync with what his body told him. Or, well, what other parts of his body told him. He spent a little bit of time looking at it trying to force either his eyes or his sense of balance to realise that it was perceiving things wrongly, but both offenders remained stubborn in their reports to his brain.
Alright, that’s new. Very perspective. Hmmm. Not very optimal. I can deal with this, though, maybe if I just…
In all his wisdom, he decided to tilt his head in order to align his vision with his feelings. If anything, it made the nausea and dizziness return, but an alignment didn’t happen. If anything, it seemed like the differences in perception drifted only further and further apart.
This will get better over time, I know it. It will just improvise until it’s done. Improve. Right, yes. Well did mind. Excellent.
He sighed, more or less accepting the discrepancy between his senses. Cub leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed to limit the input to his brain a little bit. It didn’t take long for his mind to start wandering, and he found it almost immediately finding his partner in crime.
I hope Scar is good. What is he… I don’t know what but he has to okay, right? At least as okay as he just has to can. Safe… yeah, I hope he is safe. Protected by a code and whole. Not hurt, at least not badly. Would it optimism to hope for one piece? Probably, given Jevin, but… I hope he’s good. And with others, that too, that would be great. What would they do now? Waiting and sit? Possibly, possibly…
Cub sighed again, trying to think of something that was moderately happier than what he was currently thinking about. He didn’t want to let his mind go too deep into what they could have done to Scar, for his own sanity’s sake. The same went for the other Hermits currently trapped. Cub simply hoped they weren’t too badly hurt and that their captor at the very least took some kind of care for them.
Though, judging by what Jevin had said earlier… That was probably giving them more credit than was due.
Okay, let’s not, let’s just… positive. Good things. Happy think.
Raking his brain for something better turned out to not only increase the headache, but it also managed to make the nausea worse, and he had the feeling that the floor was just shifting below him now, and that he was ever so slowly falling. Besides that, though, he also had trouble coming up with some nice concept that didn’t come with a nasty aftertaste or immediate mental bridges to thoughts that weren’t nice.
In the end, the capitalist made the executive decision to simply not think for a while, instead focussing on the there and then. He opened his eyes again, trying to find something interesting to look at for a bit as he slowly moved his head around. He was vaguely aware of some voices coming from… He wasn’t too sure, he just knew there were voices, familiar ones at that, but it didn’t take long for him to realise he could not actually process what they were saying. It just sounded like warbled gibberish for some reason. As he listened, his eyes found some nice stones in the wall opposite him, and as he looked at it a little better it almost felt like the sounds around him just more or less flowed away from his ears and down his skin until there was nothing left. He also found himself leaning more and more to the side to compensate for his feelings of gravity. Not that it helped much, but he tried.
All of a sudden, he found a wet towel being propelled into his face. Why it was there eluded him, and he nearly fell over out of instinct. He spluttered something out of bewilderment as he grabbed the towel and looked around quickly, on his guard. The world spun around him and Cub felt as though he was going to throw up. More gibberish sounded, and he could see a familiar face approaching.
Doc? What… huh?
For the first time, he realised that there might’ve been something seriously wrong as he tried to respond. He wanted to ask something about why the cyborg had thought it necessary to toss the piece of cloth instead of handing it over. What came out, though, was… Well. Not that.
“Towel… Hot in the afternoon?”
His eyes widened, as did Doc’s. The other man opened his mouth to say something, but Cub just couldn’t understand what he was saying. His head was swimming, and his vision followed suit. At the same time, he was acutely aware of something trickling down the side of his head. Somehow, he got the feeling that he simply needed to get out of there.
“Out. Out out out out. Go?” he muttered, before scrambling to his feet. Much to his surprise, he actually managed, though basically everything was said with that. The sudden movement made the nausea spike, so he stumbled forwards to find some stability. Except there was no ground to feel where his eyes told him there should be, and he found himself tripping, the ground approaching fast.
Then that same ground was in his face, hitting it at speed and he found another spike of white-hot skullsplittery going through him.
A mere second later, it all faded, and Cub embraced the sweet nothingness of unconsciousness.
Notes:
First of all, chapter 69: nice
Secondly: We're over 150k words now, which is a goddamn lot
Lastly: Sorry Cub. One of my med school friends told me my initial description of the results of head trauma was a lot too light and I'm a sucker for realism, soooo....
For those that skipped: Cub experienced the effects of getting hit in the head quite badly. In the end this resulted in him tripping and falling unconscious. Doc is with him and he is within the range of a regen beacon.
Chapter 70: Arc 2 - 22
Summary:
Smooth sailing. Not-so-smooth sailing.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
He was not entirely sure how long he had been rowing for before his arms started complaining. It didn’t in the slightest help that he wasn’t entirely sure where he was going, seeing as he did not in fact have a map or enough knowledge of the layout of the land in order to pinpoint were his destination laid. Evil X was mostly following the coastline of the main island, hoping to find something that would point in the right direction. At the same time, he tried to keep as far away from the coast as he could, hoping to dodge drones that way. So far it seemed he had managed to evade them, which was a good thing.
Looking around, he decided that the coast was clear, and that he could take a quick break. His arms and shoulders wanted, no, demanded rest, as did his lungs. Of course, he could in theory push further and hope for the best, but he would rather not end up on his brother’s doorstep as a complete wreck. His revenge had waited a while, but it could wait ten minutes longer. Maybe fifteen.
The boat slowly floated to a halt as he let the oars rest on the water surface. Evil X sighed before stretching his arms and hands a little. One of the annoying things about having been trapped in That Place for so long – probably – was that there had been no things he could actually interact with, and as such, not really any way of keeping himself in shape. Currently, his body was detailing exactly how not up to date his cardio was. It was something he would need to work on after he had taken his revenge. He would personally kick that brother of his into That Place for a week or so and then let him back out again, to demonstrate how different they were. He would not leave his brother to rot in there, much as he deserved it.
Speaking of my brother… He probably started looking for me by now. Unless he’s asleep and missed my death, somehow, that is. Actually, he has to have missed it, otherwise I doubt I would still be rowing around. I bet he would’ve banned me already if that was the case.
A feeling of unease crept up in his stomach as his mind supplied another option. Perhaps his brother wasn’t in this world anymore. Perhaps him and those friends of him had simply skipped over to the next one, leaving him in that other place until some other travellers would enter the world with an admin and they would be kind enough to let him out. Anger sparked within him.
Would he have sunken that low? Would he really just subject me to a fate like that? Oh, who am I kidding? He would, otherwise he would have soft-banned me instead. That way I’d at least be free to skip to another world. But nooooo, mister Perfectvoid HAD to hard-ban to show off and to establish dominance.
Evil X grunted frustratedly. His hand had found the handle of the oar and was currently trying to squeeze it to pieces to no avail. All the mockery in the world was not enough to properly convey how he felt about his brother. That being said, he also knew there was virtually no point in working himself up over things right at that point, given that he wasn’t able to pass on those feelings to his brother. As such, he forced himself to let the poor oar be, and to breathe slowly out and in a few times.
A break. He was just going to have a break and then continue on.
His eyes quickly scanned the skies, happy to find not a singular drone in sight. Then his gaze drifted off to the waterline and then below it. Only now did he take in what was below him. It was mostly kelp and gravel, but as he looked a little closer, Evil X was quite sure he could see the ruins of some long-lost civilisation down there. Sandstone bricks and something that looked like andesite dotted the sea floor, and bubbles floated to the surface from where the very earth had split open to reveal magma. It didn’t in the slightest seem to bother the schools of salmon and cod that were flitting around through it all, their motions fluid and seemingly premeditated. Of course, he had no way of knowing whether they actually thought about the patterns of movement they kept to or if that was just ingrained into their beings, much like the way monsters seemed to act and react to the world around them.
Speaking of monsters, as he looked on, he saw a few of the blueish zombies appearing from within the buildings, swinging upwards towards the surface where his boat was. Evil X didn’t know whether they would actually be able to harm him as long as he wasn’t touching the water, but it wasn’t something he would like to find out the hard way. He didn’t particularly feel like dying again, especially not now that he had taken basically everything his respawn location had had to offer. For a moment, he sat completely still in the vessel, staring down at the monster. It gurgled a little, bubbles escaping and drifting upwards, before seemingly losing interest and floating off in a different direction.
Evil X breathed out in relief, both for not being attacked and for this meaning he would be able to continue resting for a few minutes longer. His shoulders would like that. A lot. He leaned back a little, his eyes once again drifting back to the depths below. The fish were still doing their thing down there, and the kelp gently swayed on the current. He was too far up to be able to see the details on the ocean bottom, but he was quite certain that if he were to dive in, he would be able to find at the very least a few shells. Not that he had a particular desire to dive in, not with drowned around. And so he just focussed on the fish for now, following the lines and circles they swam. Up and down, left and right, to the front and to the back, their position in their school varying. Almost automatically he found himself playing a game to figure out what kind of shape the group was in, what it looked like.
It didn’t even occur to him that it was basically the same thing he had been doing with the matterless matter, back in That Place. He was just observing and relaxing a little as the shapes changed under him.
That’s a tree. Hmmm…. Chest. Bird. Person. Cloud. Tree again. Is that… a ladder…? No, uh… Wait, they shifted again. That’s a helmet. Aaaaand spider. Cloud. Worm. Another cloud. Hotdog?
His little game got rudely interrupted by a sudden shock going through the boat. Evil X blinked a few times, and he heard something shing through the water before it struck his boat again. He looked around quickly before spotting some more drowned, this time grouped around one of them that was holding a trident, getting ready to throw it again. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that the drowned he had spotted earlier had gone to get reinforcements.
Another trident hit the bottom of the boat, and he could see the wood bend and warp around it. He did not particularly feel like sinking, though, and he quickly picked up his oars again and started rowing.
Best to get out of here quickly. I’m not sure how much more this boat can handle.
The vessel started moving but it felt so damn slow, too slow even. Biting his teeth together, Evil X pushed himself to move quicker and then quicker still. Seeing a trident break through the surface where the boat had just been worked really well as an incentive to keep going too. The thing flung higher into the air before hitting the apex of its trajectory and bending down. A blink later it had disappeared into the waves again. The good thing about that was the fact that it meant he was outrunning the drowned and its throwing now. The bad thing about that was the fact that he would now need to also dodge tridents from the sky now. While he knew that technically he should be dodging and weaving to have the highest chance of evading the tridents when they inevitably would come down, he had the feeling that it would just be faster to row in a straight line to get out of range earlier. That was not in the slightest caused by him not being too sure about how to quickly zigzag while in a boat. So far, manoeuvring had been slow and not subtle in the slightest, and he wasn’t going to magically become better at it in his time of need. Reality sadly didn’t work like that.
As such, he gritted his teeth together and started moving the oars as quickly as he could. His technique was rubbish, but at least Evil X had the idea that he was going a little bit faster now. Not much, but still a little bit. Another trident broke through the surface, further behind him now, and he found himself looking up to track it. It went up, higher and higher, until it started going down again, the angle lower now than it had been before. It flew over his head, and he let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding.
So far, so good. I should be almost out of reach now…
The oars went in and out of the water, the sloshing sloppy but at least some kind of rhythmic, almost drowning out the splash of another trident entering the air. He barely glanced over his shoulder before desperately pushing down one of the oars, leaving the other hanging on the edge of the little boat. The effect was immediate as the boat suddenly started turning around the oar that was causing quite some drag, slowing the boat down in the process.
Half a second later, the trident hit where the boat had been.
Evil X cursed under his breath, knowing that that had been too close for comfort. He picked up his rhythm again, pushing harder and harder to just get out of range. No more looking back now, he had to get out of there.
Come on come on come on!
Another splash sounded behind him, and he closed his eyes, waiting for something to hit him. Instead, though, a second splash sounded closer, but still behind the boat he had commandeered. Opening one eye, he looked around, not entirely believing it yet. It had missed. It was behind him. He was… Probably out of range, then?
Still, it wasn’t something he would like to test, and he kept rowing fast for a while, before eventually slowing down again, finally allowing himself to relax a little. He was alive, and still on course, and not a pincushion. That all sounded like wins in his book.
Notes:
consider this a 'sorry' for last chapter.
Chapter 71: Arc 2 - 23
Summary:
Responsibility taken. A new plan hatches.
Chapter Text
By all accounts, the logs didn’t make sense. Not as far as he could see, at the very least. There had been no unbanning message, there had been no message to state his brother had joined the world, nothing. It was almost as though he had just appeared out of thin air, only to then die again. Had the death message not said anything about spiders being involved, Xisuma would have been tempted to believe Evil X had somehow managed to get himself killed in a timeless, completely empty dimension.
With a sigh he scrolled all the way up to where the logs of the day started, so he could go over them again, this time on the lookout for more obscure red flags. The things that were signs of something having gone wrong or the things that predicted something was going to be wrong. The kind of thing that only stood out when you were really familiar with the neutral state of things.
Deep inside, the admin knew he needed to be doing other things, such as initiating the raid, or overseeing the Biffa situation, but the others seemed like they had things under control on that front. At the very least, he hadn’t heard anything of any of them yet, so he assumed things were going alright. Besides, he just really, really wanted to make sure that Evil X would not become a problem that just ended up on the seemingly ever-growing pile of trouble the Hermits were having.
Multiple buzzes in his pocket distracted him from the text on the screen in front of him. The first thought to shoot through him was ‘Oh no.’ The second was ‘Not another.’ Only after that came the thought to actually dig up his communicator to see what was up. The fact that it seemed to be private messages did a lot to make him relax a little bit, at the very least. The words, however, were a cause for concern.
<MumboJumbo> x, where are you? couldn’t find you in the meeting room
<MumboJumbo> i need to speak to you
<MumboJumbo> kinda time-sensitive
<MumboJumbo> most DEFINITELY confidential
Xisuma squinted for a moment as he tried to figure out what to think about it. Given that Mumbo had said it was time-sensitive, though…
<xisumavoid> In my office. No one else is here, so we can discuss it here :-)
<MumboJumbo> ah, i’ll be right there then!
With a sigh, Xisuma put his communicator to the side once more, refocussing on the logs for just a little bit longer. Or at least, he tried to. His thoughts were still with Mumbo.
What might have happened that he feels the need to speak to just me, in private? Something bad? I thought he was in the bunker, what could even have happened here? Something with Biffa? Or did he go to the video room? Or… Wait, could he have found out we know about him getting blackmailed? Hmm….
His eyes mindlessly moved over the text on his screen, but none of the words actually registered. His brain was simply too busy for it, looking forwards to the moment the knock on the door would come and theorising about what would happen after. Of course, there was no way to know, but it was still a nice brain exercise.
When Mumbo arrived, though, no knock came, and he instead just came in, closing the door behind him as quickly as he could.
“Mumbo, what-“
“In a moment.”
The admin half stood up behind his desk, watching as the redstoner was seemingly scanning the room for something. Xisuma just more or less frowned further with every second that passed, unsure what to think of it.
After half a minute or so, he could see Mumbo relax a little bit, before dragging himself over to one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk. Now that it seemed like some worry was out of his system, guilt settled on his face like he had been busted doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. Judging by the way he was fidgeting with the buttons of his suit jacket, though, something more was up. Nervousness or fear, it could be either, but Xisuma was not going to make assumptions about that.
“So. You wanted to talk about something?” he instead asked, sitting down again and folding his hands on the desk below them. Mumbo shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable as he pulled on the collar of his shirt a little.
“Uh, yes, I- Yeah, I mean… Yes. Talking. About something. Important stuff, even. Yes.” He laughed nervously, very pointedly avoiding looking the admin in the eyes or even in the face. Xisuma raised an eyebrow.
“That bad?”
“Weeeeellll… I wouldn’t call it bad, per se, it's more like… Well, you know how it is.” His pitch shifted upwards as he talked, and he only started fidgeting more and more. It was clear he was dancing around the topic.
“I actually don’t know how it is, Mumbo. Not unless you tell me. Rest assured though, nothing you say will leave this room unless you approve of it,” Xisuma gently pushed. It only made the redstoner look around more, and the admin realised he must’ve been checking for bugs. Or, more exactly… “There’s no spiders in here, don’t worry. If there were, I would’ve personally dealt with them by now.” His tone was icy as he almost spat out the word ‘spiders’.
“Ah. I mean, I should’ve expected that, really, it’s only logical. How would you… how would you do such a thing, then?”
Xisuma sighed, shaking his head.
“Mumbo, please get to the point. You said it was time-sensitive, didn’t you?”
“I did, yes, but-“
“Then quit the waffling, look me in the eyes and just say it.”
For a moment, Mumbo just opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to say, before shakily exhaling and actually making eye contact for the first time since he entered.
“Alright then. Here goes nothing. I… I may or may not have been following orders from Arachne for the past few days.” The redstoner spoke the words just about as fast as he could manage before closing his eyes and looking away from the admin.
Ah, so it WAS about this. Something must’ve happened then, a line he didn’t want to cross. Strange, though, I didn’t realise he had been given yet another task…
“I knew,” he simply stated in response.
“Look, I know I shouldn’t have, but- They were threatening to hurt Grian, to keep him forever, and- and- Wait, you knew?!” It seemed his words had needed a moment to be processed, and Mumbo just plain had not expected his reaction, judging by the way his eyes shot back and found his. Xisuma just nodded.
“How… how long have you known? Do the others…?”
Once again, the admin nodded.
“About a day and a half, I would say. The others are up to speed on the whole situation too. All under express orders to not let you know we knew, of course, and to play along. We did not want you to slip up and tip that bastard off that something was up.” Xisuma sighed. “No offence, Mumbo, but you’re a terrible liar.”
“Ah. I… Yeah, I was already surprised you all believed me for so long… Guess you didn’t, then…” the redstoner muttered, his eyes finding their way to the desk once more before widening. “Wait, but… Then… Did- did Wels…?”
“Him, False, and Doc knew they were most likely heading into a trap, yes.” It hurt to have to admit that to Mumbo, especially because he would rather not even think about it, were it possible. It was one of those places where he thought they could’ve done better, where they hadn’t needed to lose one of their best fighters.
In front of him, the redstoner stifled a sob.
“He… he knew, and- and he w-went anyway? B-but why? Just… I… I… I messed up, didn’t I? A-and that’s… that’s even w-without-“ Xisuma saw how tears were starting to drip down as Mumbo valiantly kept trying to get words out of his lungs. Without moving his eyes, he reached into one of the drawers of his desk to retrieve a box of tissues. When he found it, he gently slid it towards the redstoner, who took a few of the tissues with just about as much grace as a ravager trying to get up a ladder.
“He volunteered, hoping to maybe get a few hits in or perhaps even more than just that. That was his own choice, so please, don’t feel bad about it. Had we gotten other intel about that bastard being somewhere near, I don’t doubt he would’ve gone then too. As for the other things you had to do… We’ll deal with the consequences of that when they arrive. You’re not alone in this, we are all backing you up.” Leaning forwards, he put his hand on Mumbo’s shoulder, patting it a few times. It didn’t seem to make things better, though, as his shoulders started shocking and the tears poured out harder now.
“No, you… you d-don’t u-u-understand, I… I h-have a new- a new assignment…” Had he seemed guilty before, that guilt now doubled on his face as he dabbed at the tears with the tissue. Instead of asking more, though, the admin stayed silent, hoping Mumbo would volunteer the information while he tried thinking of when the redstoner would’ve gotten a new assignment, and how.
He was with the group fighting Biffa, wasn’t he? No way he went all the way back to his base, then, so… How did he have contact? Spiders dropping off notes? Just via his communicator? Actually, the latter sounds more practical. Or did he actually have contact before the meeting started?
It was silent on the other side of the desk, save for some quiet sobs. Whatever his new assignment was, it didn’t seem like the other man was taking it very well. Eventually, though, he managed to hiccup his way through another few sentences.
“X, they… they want me to- to betray you. To just… to give them your… They want your communicator and- and your name. And I- I don’t want to… I can’t just… but I did, and-“
“You told them my name?” It wasn’t an accusation, merely a question, but it still was enough to make Mumbo lower his head and wrap his arms around his chest in a hug.
“Not quite told, but… yeah. I was… I was muttering to- to myself, to just… to figure out what to do, and- and I didn’t notice that there was a spider there and- did you know they can apparently- they can kind of ‘see’ through them, somehow? I- I think it caught your name, but-“
Xisuma raised a hand, to signal him to stop.
“Do they have it in writing, somewhere?”
A plan was forming in his head. It was perhaps a little far-fetched, but… The risks tied to it were small enough to be worth a try. It wasn’t like simply having someone’s communicator granted any kind of control over them, after all, it only cut them off from specific channels of communication. It was only the communicators of admins that carried some inherent trouble in the shape of abuse of the admin powers.
“No, unless- unless they wrote it down… they don’t.”
“I see.” Xisuma stood up. “Wait here for a moment.”
He walked to the door that lead into his modest bedroom and made a beeline for the enderchest in the corner. He knew that what he had in mind would only work if Mumbo had no idea what the plan actually entailed, such that his bad lies could not derail it.
It only took a little bit of rummaging to find the bits he needed, and he quickly went to work. In theory, what he wanted to do was simple enough. In practice, however, it was not something he had ever done before, or at the very least, not with something like a communicator. Nevertheless, there was a first time for everything, and Xisuma dove straight in. A minute or two later, the task was done, and he looked at the thing in his hands with satisfaction.
This’ll work. Or, well… It’ll work long enough, I hope.
The admin walked back to his desk and sat down. It seemed that in his absence, Mumbo hadn’t really moved except to grab some more tissues. Now, though, he was looking up at him, some kind of expectation in his eyes.
“Here. You can give them this.”
Xisuma put the communicator in his hands on the table and slid it towards Mumbo, who almost recoiled from it.
“Go ahead, pick it up. It won’t shock you or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about."
Mumbo swallowed, then went to pick it up and looked at it from a few angles. He went pale when looking at the back of it, though.
“No, you can’t be serious. I can’t- I can’t just give them this. That… I… No. I-“
“Mumbo, I need you to trust me here. I have a plan, but I can’t tell you what it is just yet.” He remained calm as he watched the redstoner trying not to panic.
“X, that’s… It’s daft. I don’t know what you’re planning, but… It’s bonkers! Bonkers I tell you!” He continued turning the communicator in his hands, and the admin caught a glimpse of his own name, engraved in the back of it.
“Oh, believe me, I’m aware. Desperate times, though… They call for desperate measures.” He smiled apologetically. “Now, could you go and bring that to that bastard, please?”
In response, the redstoner sputtered some words of resistance, but a long, tired stare seemed to convince him there was no swaying the admin’s mind. Mumbo sighed.
“I really hope you know what you’re doing.”
Then he stood up, leaving the room in the same way he came in, shiftily and sneakily.
The moment the door closed behind the man, Xisuma dropped the mask of calmness that came so naturally to him.
This better go well.
Then he glanced over at the screens, that had gone into screensaver mode, and started up the messaging program. He had a warning and instructions that needed spreading to every Hermit personally, sooner rather than later.
And so, the admin started typing away, sending message after message. He so hoped this plan would work to some extent. It was almost sad he would not be able to see the face of that spidery bastard when they figured out something was wrong.
Chapter 72: Arc 2 - 24
Summary:
Two becomes five. Dreams beckon.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Of course they had noticed the changes in feeling as they happened, but while they were content with it, it didn’t mean they would drop everything just to welcome a few new little spiders int their ranks. Besides, they had had a few more… pressing matters to attend to. Damage that needed to be controlled, plans that needed to be spun into motion, people that needed to be pushed in the right direction. Now that they had gone through most of that list, though, there was no reason to push it back further. Thinking of a proper punishment for that pathetic moustachioed little fly could wait.
Arachne left their web, limbs stretching and legs tapping on the floor with a calm sort of finality. There was no reason to hurry, not in the slightest. The little spiders would not be going anywhere without them knowing, and it wasn’t like the little flies could do anything either. Well, that wasn’t quite true. They could try and they could fail and they could wallow and they could cry but they could do nothing to take their little spiders away from them. They scoffed.
Caught in my web they are harmless , no matter what they think.
As they moved through the hallways, the small spiders they passed chittered excitedly, moving out of their way as quickly as they could as to not get crushed underneath them. It was exactly how they wanted those under their rule to be: to worship them, but also to know their lives were in their hands. Of course, their subjects would be completely safe if they just did what was asked and expected of them, Arachne was no monster. At least, not in their own mind. What others might say… well. They were simply wrong. But that was a symptom of coming into power, wasn’t it? Opposition would arise at some point, and that opposition would try to tarnish the names of those they so tried to oppose.
Try as they might… they will not succeed. I will make sure of that.
A grin spread on their mandibles as they moved into the first of the cells. Their little spider sat kneeled, gently swaying to some inaudible rhythm, waiting as was to be expected of them. The gagged little fly, however… Well. The moment he saw Arachne, he tried charging at them, ready to fight. His face was red and wet with tears, and there was a murderous glare in his eyes. Of course, he didn’t even get halfway towards them before the chain stopped him. He trashed against his bonds, letting out a primal cry partially muffled by the gag. Arachne chuckled, mandibles clicking together as they did.
“What is it, little fly? Are you jealous? You can be like him, you know? And all it takes is just for you to accept my mark.” If anything, it seemed like the little fly didn’t like their words in the slightest; he grabbed his collar, then pulled and shook at it as though that was going to dislodge it somehow. All the while, his eyes remained focussed on them, rage and hate and murderous intent fighting for dominance.
Pathetic.
Giving no more attention to the loud rattling of chains, Arachne walked towards their newest subject. They stood before him, their hands going over his hair and cheeks to cup his face, forcing him to look at them. He was happy and smiling, unlike the little spiders that had come before him, and they weren’t quite sure yet if that was a good thing. Oh well. Should it become a problem, they had various ways of dealing with it. Making someone unhappy was quite easy, after all.
Their second set of hands found the back of his collar, resting against it. Then they clicked and hissed a few words, their hands glowing before the collar split open and clattered onto the floor.
“And so… The little fly turned into a little spider.” From behind them came noises of protest, of that other little fly trying to change the unchangeable. “Follow.”
“Of course, Possessor.”
They squinted at the title he had used for them, not entirely sure why that was his honorific of choice, but Arachne let it go for now. It sounded respectable and true enough. In a way, they did possess him, after all.
Arachne let go of his face and started leaving the room, sending one last lingering stare at the other man. No words were spoken, but they didn’t need to be. Well, unless of course he decided to accept the mark, but that could still be a question followed by a nod. In any case, not worth their time right now. They had better things to do.
Within moments, they found themselves in the corridor once more, with their new little spider not too far behind. There was a certain spring to his steps, and Arachne couldn’t quite lay a finger on why that bothered them. It was the combination of how he acted and what he had called them that felt off, in a way, but looking at it logically he wasn’t doing anything wrong.
Whatever. There were more little spiders to add to their collection, and they wouldn’t let one weird one spoil that joy. Without slowing down, they continued on towards the room at the end of the hallway, proceeding to go inside.
There was quite the contrast with the first cell. While both had one little fly left, in here, he was just curled up in a ball, looking at the other two people present with hurt and longing and fear in his eyes. One of them was simply sitting kneeled, looking forwards, while the other one was twitchy, staring at the fly, a low growl on his lips. A few of their fingers were loosely interlocked, but that seemed to be all affection they held.
Arachne was quite content seeing this, a smirk on their face. It probably would not take much to push that last little fly over the edge, to make him too accept their mark, but they first needed to set some things into motion now that they finally had some proper manpower at their disposal. Now was the time for larger steps towards their goal, towards their dream. And no one would stand in their way, least of all those pesky Hermits.
As with the other little spiders before them, Arachne freed them from their chains, speaking the words that would bind them to their new role instead. It didn’t take long in the slightest, and before they knew it, they had three little spiders with them, ready to do their bidding. Still, Arachne took a little bit of time to take the chin of the red man, cruelly twisting it to make him look at them.
In turn, he didn’t say anything, just looking at them as though they were going to eat him, and he could get out of that fate by just being still and pretending he wasn’t there. Of course, he was wrong on that part, Arachne was not planning on eating him, and even if they were, just staying still would not change their mind on that part. That being said, should he turn out to just be a waste of resources… Well. Then it would probably be best for him to turn into resources instead. It was simply that easy.
“Just let me know when you change your mind about accepting my mark. I know you will,” they whispered as they pulled him even closer, allowing them to feel his shallow breathing upon their carapace.
With a chuckle, they let go of him once more, letting his head fall to the ground without warning. This did, in fact, elicit a response from him, in the form of a high-pitched whine upon impact. That was about it, though, it seemed like he was just letting it all happen to him. Almost as though he was either in shock or as though he had simply given up. Whichever one it was, Arachne did not particularly care. He’d come to his senses and make the right decision eventually. As such, they simply let him be for now.
“Come, little spiders. There is much to be done.” Again, the smiling one responded a little bit too happily, using that same weird honorific again. At least the other two had picked something relatively normal. Simply a “Yes sir” and a “Yes, my lord”, which would do just fine.
Arachne went ahead of them, leading them into the hallway, then up the stairs, and towards their primary web. As they passed by the shrine, they gestured for little Sally to come and join them too, which he did without hesitation. The only thing keeping him from immediately following was him carefully putting a broom against the wall, but that was about it.
Before long, they were sitting in their web once more, their little spiders lined up right in front of them.
Perfect. On to the next stage. It’s a shame the first one isn’t here… Oh well. He’ll feel my wrath when he returns.
They steepled their claws, leaning forwards ever so slightly.
“Little spiders, it is time to push forwards. Gears into motion, my dominion no longer merely a dream or a plan. This world will be mine, and mine alone, and you… You will help bring my glorious future about. Those insignificant villagers are easily swayed, but that is all they are: insignificant in the grand scheme of things. A larger… annoyance are the Hermits. They do not see that I am what this world needs, and they would stop at nothing to prevent my ascension. They are the complicating factor, but they won’t be for much longer. After all… When we wipe out the Worldshaper on their side, they will be without guidance, without direction, and, most importantly, without power.”
Their eyes went over their little spiders, sizing them up one by one to figure out the best distribution of force. The one that looked feral, as well as the one with a single eye, looked as though they could pack a punch, while the other two didn’t. Sally was quite the flier, of course, but the last one… They weren’t too sure about that one. He was lanky, and he had given in rather quickly. He seemed happy enough to follow orders, though, so that was useful.
In their mind, they made a decision.
“Sally will fly out to the mole’s base. You are to lay in ambush and take him out the moment he appears. If he has the Worldshaper’s communicator, bring it here. You two”- they pointed out the feral one and the one-eyed one –“will go to their hole in the ground, and pick off as many of them as you can. Should you come across any mechanical eyes, flying or not, destroy them. Blind them. As for you…” They turned towards the happy little spider, swaying gently on his feet. “I have something special planned for you.” They grinned, and the happy one smiled back widely.
“You three, gather your carapace, gather your armaments. When all is done, return here, so I may bestow upon you a last gift before you leave on your mission. Now go.”
Arachne barely even finished their sentence before the trio was nodding and quickly walking off to the storage rooms. They waited a moment to speak until the other three were out. Then they turned to the last remaining little spider.
“What I need you to do is as follows…”
Notes:
Sorry this chapter took so long, I've been experiencing quite some writers block over the past few weeks. But we're rolling again!
Chapter 73: Arc 2 - 25
Summary:
Drinks, doors, and naps.
Notes:
Warning in advance: While this chapter is generally a fluffy one, it does brush against the topic of head trauma in various places. A short summary of what happens will be in the end notes, should you want to skip over it.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Cub? Are you okay?” he asked, tentatively stepping forwards. Doc could still pretend his friend was alright if he ignored his gut feeling hard enough, but when no answer came… That changed. The tentative steps turned into a sprint as he tried to get to the capitalist quicker, skidding to a halt beside him.
“Cub! Come on, man, don’t do this to me! Respond, dammit!” The cyborg dropped to his knees, gently and then not-so-gently shaking the shoulders of the other man. “Oh, you stubborn bastard, you…” he didn’t finish his sentence, not even knowing where he intended on going with it.
The minor commotion he was causing in the hallway didn’t go unnoticed. TFC was looking up from his repairs, the lines on his face deeper than normal.
“That doesn’t sound good, do ya need help over there?”
Doc simply nodded as he rolled Cub onto his back, careful to not let his head hit the ground too hard. Despite the regen beacon’s best efforts, a steadfast trickle of red kept flowing down from his temple, and his expression was anything but peaceful. The cyborg ground his teeth together, then grabbed the towel that had fallen to the ground. He folded it over, getting a clean part to clean the wound with out of habit. It was only now that he realised how irregular and unstructured Cub’s breathing was, and that perhaps dabbing up blood was not his priority here.
Cursing under his breath, he opened up his inventory, fumbling to get out the health potion he had brought just in case. Meanwhile, TFC had come closer too, standing about a meter away.
“Whaddaya need me to do?”
How is he so calm? Does he not see what’s going on here?!
“Get me a place for him to comfortably lay, the closer to the beacon the better. And some people to get him there safely. Now. I don’t know if we’re on a timer here.” Was Doc perhaps a bit snappier than he needed to be? Yes. Did he particularly care? No. He was already propping up Cub’s head and shoulders on his lap, getting ready to administer the healing potion. While he was more than tempted to just pour the entire bottle down the capitalist’s throat as soon as possible, the cyborg was relatively sure that if he tried that, he would drown him in it, which seemed counterproductive to say the least. As such, he held back on the urge. Instead, he uncorked the bottle with his cybernetic hand as he gently pried open Cub’s lips with the other one.
And then it was just carefully pouring in little bits of the potion and giving it the chance to trickle down. All the while, Doc was carefully watching Cub for any changes in his expression, for any sign he would be waking up soon. At the very least the blood on his head seemed to finally be clotting, so that was something. It didn’t even matter whether that was because of the potion, because of the beacon, or simply a side effect of time, what mattered was the fact that there was some visible progress on his healing.
While he sat, he felt his communicator buzzing in his pocket, and he froze, almost expecting Cub’s body to dematerialise in his lap despite his efforts to help.
Not another not another not another not him too
The capitalist kept breathing, though, irregular as his inhalations and exhalations were, and it took Doc about fifteen full seconds to realise that he had actually been holding his breath, waiting for something to happen.
It didn’t, though. Nothing was really signifying time was passing aside from their breathing and the way how Cub slowly but surely got a more peaceful expression on his face. It helped calm down Doc at the very least a little, quelling his worry bit by bit.
He’ll make it. He’ll pull through, he has to, he’s too stubborn to go down because of something like this, whatever this is.
Despite the progress, though, the cyborg kept feeding the potion a sip at a time. Good work needed time and should not be rushed. Rushing meant making mistakes, and making mistakes was not something he planned on doing while the life of a friend was on the line. Having lost two friends to things he could have seen coming, to things he could have prevented, was enough for now. Too much, even, as he would have preferred for that number to simply be zero. Doc was dead set on not having it become three.
“Cub, I don’t know if you can hear me, but… you gotta get well, man. I know X said he fixed the respawn, but it would be better if… Don’t let it come to that, alright? I don’t want to have to gather up your things, and then not see you come out of your bedroom door. I don’t want to go through that again, after Scar, and- just don’t die. Please,” he said softly as he administered the potion bit by bit.
About half a bottle passed before he heard multiple sets of footsteps approaching him again, making Doc look up. Tango was there, followed closely by Zedaph and Joe, but TFC was nowhere to be found. It could be that he was simply lagging behind, but it was more likely that he was preparing stuff elsewhere.
“How is he?” The demon asked, nodding towards Cub.
“Completely out. He isn’t responding to me, but at least some healing is kicking in.” Doc held up the potion bottle, sloshing the liquid inside of it around and checking how much was left. “I don’t think just one of these is going to be enough, though.”
“We’ll brew up a few more of them once we’ve got him moved, then. Seems like the best way of doing things. Do you want to finish that one first, or should we first carry him over?” Behind Tango, Zed had opened his inventory, in the process of getting something out of there, and before Doc could respond to the demon, Zed was speaking up.
“I brought the best thing for right now. It’s something great to carry along at any moment, really, there are so many times this thing saved my hide. It’s…” He dramatically pulled a door out of his inventory, almost tripping over his feet with the sudden addition of the extra weight and size. “A door! Perfectly sized, even, I’d reckon.” Zed was smiling broadly as he tried to casually lean on the thing.
“A door?” Doc repeated, not entirely sure what the added benefit of a door would be in the current situation.
“A door!” Zedaph answered cheerfully, as though that explained everything. It didn’t, of course, but that was beside the point. If anything, it made Doc squint, certain of the fact that he was missing something here. Luckily for him, though, the poet stepped up to give some context.
“We looked, but there was no stretcher to be found. As such, this door was the best solution around. We need something to carry Cub, after all, and a shield is for this purpose perhaps quite too small.”
Zedaph glanced from Doc to Joe to Tango and back, huffing.
“I was going to get to that, but yeah. We can put him on there, make sure he’s all safe and secure before we move him. I even brought some wool for padding, for some extra comfort.” He then dragged the door over, putting it down on the ground next to Cub.
“That is…”
“Genius, I know right?” Zed smiled, plopping down on the floor cross-legged.
“I was going to say ‘useful’, but alright,” Doc shrugged, before giving Cub another sip of the healing potion.
“So, Doc, whaddaya say, first give him all of that, or first moving him?” Tango repeated his earlier question, hands on his sides and head slightly tilted.
“Hmmm…” The cyborg looked down at Cub. He looked quite a bit better than he had done before, his face more peaceful now, but his breathing was still all over the place. “It’s hard to say. I’m not quite sure what caused him to go lights out in the first place, aside from hitting his head on the floor, but something was up before that too. He seemed more than a little bit out of it. In any case, my gut says a little bit more healing first, just in case.”
“That works,” Tango shrugged, before following Zedaph’s example and sitting down against the wall. Joe kept standing for just a little bit longer, before sighing and finding a spot on the ground too.
The silence was comfortable, now that he could see some other people around, and Doc felt himself relax a little bit for what felt like the first time in hours. The adrenalin of Biffa breaking out was finally leaving his system, and much to his surprise, he had to stifle a yawn.
Huh?
Next to him, he saw Joe shift, facing more in his direction.
“Doc, with this question I don’t mean to be impolite, but… have you actually slept last night?”
The cyborg blinked a few times, thinking back to the last time he had actually hit the hay.
“Not last night, I was too busy trying to… Well, to save Biffa, you know? Not the night before that either, cause I had to fly out to put up more cameras. No, wait, that isn’t entirely true, I did have a short nap, then. Maybe a few of them, I can’t really remember. Oh well. It’s fine. I’ll catch some rest after the raid,” Doc shrugged, giving Cub another sip of the potion.
“That seems really unwise. That’s basically asking for your demise.” Joe spoke sternly, disappointed almost, and Doc turned to the other two for some backup.
“Don’t look at me, I’m with Joe there, Doc. At least take a short nap before we take off, we can’t have one of our best fighters standing there sleep deprived,” Tango said, and Zedaph nodded in agreement.
“Yeah! The only thing you will be hitting is gonna be the hay! Of course, that isn’t entirely fair towards that poor, defenceless hay, but it’s the best for you.”
The cyborg sighed. So far for backup. They had a point, of course, but it still didn’t sit right with him.
“I’m not sure if I have the time for a nap before we go. There are so many places where I’m needed right now. Cub, Biffa, surveillance… I can’t just drop all of that to go take a nap. It’s simply too important.” He looked the other three in the eyes one by one, before pouring another little bit of potion into the capitalist.
The other three looked at each other as though they were sharing a braincell, before turning back to Doc.
“I can take over surveillance,” Tango offered.
“I think the task of talking to Biffa falls on me. I’ve known him longer than the other two, you see,” Joe added with a smile.
“And I can keep an eye on Cub! If it’s needed, I can just go and roll more fireworks in there, or brew a few more potions, that’s no problem.” Zed winked at Doc. “And just like that, you have time to take a nap! Isn’t that great?”
“But-“
“No buts or I’m telling Xisuma.”
Doc grumbled, looking from one face to the other before just looking down and pouring more potion.
“Look, I don’t feel comfortable leaving Cub’s side right now, I-“
“Then don’t! We’ll just put down another bed somewhere near his, problem solved!” Zedaph interrupted him again, completely crumbling the last hint of an argument the cyborg might have had.
“Urgh, fine. You win, I’ll go take a nap when we’ve moved him. Speaking of which”- he held up the bottle seeing only a quarter was left -“I think we can do that now. I’ll save the rest of this for when he’s in a better spot.”
Still grumbling, he put the cork back in the bottle, before gently moving backwards, laying Cub’s head back on the floor. Doc just pretended not to see Tango and Zed fistbumping.
“Zed, you brought some wool, right? Could you roll some of that into a pillow? Joe, Doc, can you guys help lay him on the door?” the demon asked a few seconds later. Zedaph hummed in agreement, already opening up his inventory again, while Joe stood up and walked towards Cub’s feet.
“Of course. I’ll support his head and shoulders; can you lend a hand with his torso?” Doc responded, already switching his position to carefully lift. Tango nodded and got ready to do the same.
“On three. One, two, three!”
The trio lifted up Cub relatively easily, sidestepping slowly towards the improvised stretcher, where they just as carefully laid him down again. Zedaph, meanwhile, had finished his little bit of crafting, and handed a bright yellow mass of wool to Doc.
That’s… Okay, you know what, that’s fine. Yellow is a great colour for this sort of thing.
The cyborg rolled his eyes, before gently lifting Cub’s head up again and putting the pillow under it. He nodded to himself, satisfied with the result.
“Alright, I think that should do. Did TFC tell you where he would make a spot for him?” Doc asked.
“He did, yes!” Zed said. “We are to go straight to the beacon pyramid, and he was even nice enough to give us a more detailed description of how to actually get there. I’m glad for that, this place can be quite the maze.”
“I see. Well, let’s go then. The earlier we get there, the earlier he can get the last bit of his potion.”
“And the earlier you go to sleep,” Tango added, before moving to one of the corners of the door that was conveniently out of punching range. Doc just sighed.
“Yes, and the earlier I go to sleep. Exactly.”
With a little bit of coordination, they figured out the best way to lift and carry the door, and off they went.
They had a friend to heal.
Notes:
Chapter summary should you have skipped ahead: Doc administers part of a health potion to Cub. TFC goes to get help, and sends Tango, Joe, and Zed to help out. The latter three conspire to take over some of Doc's tasks so he can go and take a nap before the raid. At the end, they carry Cub of towards the regen beacon.
Chapter 74: Arc 2 - 26
Summary:
A place to hide. A decision to make.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The mugs of cocoa were still piping hot as Cleo carefully set one down in front of False. The fighter had already absorbed the various blankets in the room in order to turn into a first-class blanket fort, but the presence of a tasty drink full of sugar seemed like enough of an incentive to get her arms detangled. The zombie just smiled as she sat down on the floor with her own mug. For a moment, she blew over it to cool the drink down a little, before testing out a small sip.
Why it still surprised her that it was, in fact, not a lot cooler now than it had been mere seconds before, she didn’t know. She squinted in betrayal as she put her mug back down, before shaking her head and sighing.
That’ll just have to wait a bit longer, then. That’s fine.
Cleo looked to the side, seeing how False was contently looking at her own drink, fingers wrapped tightly around her mug. Some colour was returning to her face again, although her hands were still a bit on the shaky side. It was progress, at the very least. For a moment, they both sat in silence, completely fine with just sitting there.
Then, after a few minutes, Cleo spoke up.
“Hey False? What happened back there?” she softly asked. “I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but… Well. With the raid coming up, I think it’s useful to know what you can and can’t comfortably do, so we can take that into account, you know?”
The zombie would have loved to be a little bit more subtle, but sadly, time was a valuable commodity. And when faced with a lack of time… Generally being a little blunt and straight to the point was acceptable enough. She glanced at the fighter, before gently blowing over her hot cocoa again.
“It’s… It’s fine. I-“ False started, before sighing and trying again. “I think that’s good, too. It’s just that I’m not entirely sure why- I just don’t get it, you know? Like, I’m pretty sure Biffa… He’s most definitely the cause of it, after the cave, but…” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes found a point to stare at, approximately a thousand miles away. Cleo reached out, laying a hand on her shoulder and patting a few times.
“It’s alright, you’re safe here. If anyone or anything tries to hurt you, I’ll break their legs, all of them.”
False’s response was not a lot more than an absentminded hum, and Cleo felt worry growing inside herself.
There HAS to be a way for me to help her, but how?
Like with any wound, the zombie knew that time was probably the most surefire way for False to heal from her experiences, and even that could take a very long while. So the question was what the next best thing was. What would make False’s life easier in the short term? Cleo didn’t want to make promises she couldn’t uphold, or to accidentally make things worse, so whatever it was, she needed to think her next move through.
Gods, I’m not trained for this. I am so not trained for this.
Sighing, she took another sip of her drink, before glancing over to the fighter once more. Maybe she should just ask, instead of trying to act on assumptions.
“What can I do to make things better for you right now?”
It seemingly took a moment for the question to register, as False kept staring in the distance before suddenly blinking and looking over.
“I mean… This already helps a little. Just sitting here, away from…“ She shook her head as though she tried to shake a thought out of it. “You know? But, if you want to do something, you could… Well, I don’t know, you could ramble about something for a bit, I guess? Yeah, that would be nice I think.” A soft smile appeared on her face, and Cleo couldn’t help but reciprocate.
“Some rambling, huh? I don’t think I can make it as vaguely profound as Joe somehow manages, but that never stopped me before. Hmm… Alright, you know Tortuga, right? My area in the pirate district?” The zombie started, checking whether False had at least a little bit of context. A hum confirmed that she did, and Cleo took that as a sign to keep going.
“So, I was working there last week, trying to get some more buildings in place. I had a small bit mapped out already, so it was not as much of a headache as it could have been, and I didn’t exactly feel like wrestling armour stands because… yeah. Those things can be right bastards at times. In any case, I was working on getting a bar built. I was thinking two stories, a nice ladder connecting them up, bar, barrels of booze, poker games, a brawl, the whole nine yards. That area just needs to scream pirate port, you know? I had my shulkers all laid out, a good amount of materials taken care of, and a relatively clear plan in my head even, so I thought it was going to be a breeze. Of course, the world is keen on doing this thing where it sees hubris and it immediately makes you pay for daring to feel competent, and last week… Well. That was no exception.” Cleo shook her head chuckling.
“I managed to take a page out of Scar’s book, and apparently decided that a pirate bar needed to be as dark as possible. You know, to simulate that dreary torch-and-candlelight feeling that goes with the aesthetic. And then I just turned around to go and get some more materials, just totally oblivious to the various mobs that were apparently willed into existence by the mere prospect to hang out in a shady bar. Of course, I noticed my mistake the moment one of those baby zombies suddenly clung around my leg as though I was its mother or something. Like, I get the confusion, same kind of skin, same spilling guts, same general annoyance with sunlight, but come on. So I did the only logical thing.” The zombie shrugged, before taking a sip of her hot cocoa.
“You stabbed it with your sword?”
“Of course not! I smashed a bottle over the little bugger’s head. I got a reputation as a fearsome captain to uphold, after all, and I was in a bar. It did make that thing realise really quickly that I was not, in fact, its mom. And then it had the guts to bite me. Can you imagine? Needless to say, it didn’t have guts for long after that. That damned thing had some friends, though, and not just of the zombie kind. So there I was, trying to just light my build up in peace, but every time I turned my back on one side of the room, one of those skelebums would shoot at me. Thank the gods for armour, though, that stopped most of it, but I certainly did feel like a pincushion after a while. Zero stars. Would not recommend. In any case, I eventually managed to put down enough torches and glowstone to discourage spawning, and I was just happily looking around when I heard the telltale hiss of a creeper about to explode. To this day I’m not sure where it came from, but the next thing I knew was waking up at spawn because it had managed to also blow up my bed. I swear, I was this close”- she held her thumb and index finger almost together for False to see -“to just setting the entire bar on fire and claiming whatever would be left was because of the pirates attacking the town.” With a sigh, she looked over at False, who was nodding along. “I didn’t, of course, and I managed to patch most of the damage, but gods did I want to.”
“Mmmm… I can imagine. Creepers are just the worst.”
“They really are, yeah.”
Cleo was happy to see False slowly coming back to her normal self a little, though her voice was still missing part of her usual enthusiasm. It was still a step in the right direction, though, and that was what counted. Small steps, and she would get there eventually. Wasn’t that the way people functioned anyway? Big changes just didn’t happen with a snap of a finger, they needed time. It was like building large things, that didn’t just happen overnight. Those builds needed hours, days, weeks of work, and lots of progress could simply be destroyed in mere seconds due to unlucky explosions. The trick was just to keep going. To not give up, not even when things went south, and things seemed hopeless. To rebuild, again and again, until it was done.
She contently sipped from her drink, just happy that for once it didn’t seem like things were going south. It was nice to have a moment of respite before everything would no doubt go to hell again as the raid started. Speaking of the raid…
“Hey False?”
“Yeah?” The fighter put down her cup, looking over at the zombie with a hint of curiosity in her eyes.
“While I didn’t mind rambling at you for a bit in the slightest, I do kinda still need an answer to my question. Fighting-wise, where do you want to be when the raid happens? Here, in the End, somewhere else? Whichever you pick, I’m sure none of the others would mind, so please pick that which you feel most confident in.”
Some of the joy pulled away from False’s face, and Cleo immediately felt guilty for having to ask it. Then again, she knew she was doing it for good reason. If False froze up during the raid, it could very well mean that even more of their friends would fall into the hands of that spidery bastard. Still, Cleo wanted to leave a little bit of honour to the fighter herself, instead of just telling her that she couldn’t come along. That wouldn’t be fair.
After a minute of pulling increasingly more conflicted faces, False finally opened her mouth again.
“I think… Uhm… I think I should stay here. On the upper levels of the vault specifically, I mean. Much as I want to say I’ll manage, I- Uh, I frankly don’t know, and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take,” she started, before half-heartedly smiling. “Besides, someone has to guard this place when all the other fighters are out fighting a world-threatening evil, isn’t it?”
Cleo couldn’t help but chuckle.
“That’s the spirit.”
Notes:
this chapter was a bitch and a half to write. but hey, it exists now!!
thank you discord peeps for giving me some motivation to get this done
Chapter 75: Arc 2 - 27
Summary:
Do you hear it? A step forwards, a step in place.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
He couldn’t quite believe he was alone again. It stung, looking at the end of chain where Scar had been just minutes before, and he just wished there had been something he could’ve done. Something, anything. Right now, Wels just felt like he had failed his friend, even though he knew that all odds had been stacked against him.
It still felt like an excuse though, despite all logical parts of him screaming that he had done the best he could have, given the situation.
With a sigh, he sat down at the edge of his slabs, folding his arms and wrapping his tail around himself to simulate the feeling of a hug. Gods knew he needed one.
The question was what he was going to do now. Wallowing in self-pity was tempting, although he knew that was a slippery slope to asking for things he shouldn’t be asking for, and it was not going to make his situation any better. That being said, couldn’t he just allow himself to be sad for a moment? Couldn’t he allow himself to give what had happened a place, to think about it and figure out what to do now?
The knight sighed again, briefly looking up to look at the now empty metal collar on the floor. Maybe, just maybe, Scar would have still been there if he had just listened to him. Maybe, if he had just stopped humming… But no. He thought he had known better. He had thought it was just the corrupted part of Scar’s mind speaking, and that Scar actually needed him to go on.
Apparently, that had been the wrong choice to make.
The realisation dawned on Wels that if that had indeed been the turning point, he had been directly responsible for the turning of two of his friends, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Guilty, of course, for obvious reasons, but at the same time he felt anger in his heart to even be put in this situation to begin with. He hadn’t asked for it, and he was quite certain he didn’t deserve it either. The universe was cruel like that, but Arachne was possibly crueller.
Wels wanted to yell out in frustration, only to find that damned gag in the way. Right there and then, he decided it had to go. There had to be something he could do about it, aside from what little him and Scar had managed to achieve before. If he could just get rid of the fabric somehow, it would make the situation so much better.
The question was how.
He bent slightly forwards, elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands. Absentmindedly, he moved his jaw a little, the metal band moving along as he did so. Wels knew there had to be a way out of this situation. There always was, however unconventional, however complex. The trick was just to find it. The trouble right now was that Wels had no idea in which direction to even search. If he had admin magic it would probably be easy enough but given that he had neither access to his communicator nor admin powers, that plan was not going to fly.
He looked upwards, towards where the ceiling probably was, then stopped and blinked.
Wait, what?
A frown appeared on his face as he looked down again, pressing his chin as far down as he could, before moving his head to look up again. Then he did it a few more times, just to be absolutely sure about it. Each time he did, he felt the pressure of the metal band on his skin increase as he tilted his head back, only to decrease again when he tilted it forwards.
So I didn’t imagine it! This is good, this is great! Why didn’t I notice this earlier?
More emotions were fighting for dominance in his mind, though this time it was more of a mix between surprise and happiness with an edge of disbelief and guilt that he hadn’t figured it out earlier.
Still, the knight didn’t want to get his hopes up too high. He would rejoice the moment this discovery would actually get him somewhere, and not one minute earlier. It was better for his morale in the long run, he knew that.
Here goes nothing.
Wels took a deep breath, then tilted his head as far forwards as he could. Now that he was focussing on it, he did indeed feel the collar becoming a little bit looser as the distance between his lips and the back of his neck became ever so slightly smaller. He just hoped it was enough.
He hooked his fingers underneath it as well as he could, before pulling it forwards, as far as it would go. Immediately, he felt the metal digging into the back of his neck, but it was an annoyance he was more than willing to bear. If that was what it took to get rid of the damned thing… Well. So be it.
Then began the next step, to actually try to work it downwards. It went well for the first centimetre or so, until the lower edge hit his chin and refused to go further down. Wels grunted, not in the slightest enjoying this hitch in his plan, but he continued onwards anyway, simultaneously pulling the metal band downwards and consciously tensioning some muscles in his lower jaw, moving it a few millimetres further backwards.
It was just about enough, and the pain of the metal scraping over his skin was most definitely worth it as the knight felt it slipping past his chin, the pressure suddenly disappearing. Then the band dropped down, turning from a gag to an ill-designed necklace. Euphoria coursed through his system as he realised he had managed to actually do it, and Wels didn’t waste a second to pull the fabric out of his mouth.
He couldn’t help but smile as he licked his lips and generally felt around his mouth. It felt better, so much better. The knight cleared his throat before testing out a few sounds, happy to be able to hear his own voice again. Sure, he knew that in the larger picture this wasn’t a really significant thing, but on the other side… A victory was a victory, no matter how small, and Wels was not about to just reason away a significant boost in his morale.
Arachne is going to hate this so much. It’s perfect.
Leaning back once more, Wels realised he felt like singing. Loudly so. He knew it was probably a bad idea to do so, but at the same time he also didn’t want to give that spidery bastard the idea that simply having him gagged for a while would make him shut up. And besides… If they were busy dealing with him, they couldn’t torture his friends, which sounded like a good trade-off.
And so, Wels stood, the two metal bands around his neck clanging together as he moved. His stance was proud, his fists clenched together as a confident grin appeared on his lips. There was only one song that fit right now. He had sung it before, and he would sing it again.
He took a deep breath, then started singing as loudly as he could.
“Do you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men? It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again…”
---
He was just about done eating his pancakes when he saw a brief shot of panic go over Stress’ face. She sent him a glance before digging up her communicator, and Jevin feared for the worst. As far as he knew, no one should be out, but at the same time… Well. Accidents happened. The slime man waited in silence as he saw the ice queen exhale in relief before raising an eyebrow.
“Huh… I fink-“ She stopped herself in her tracks, looking around seemingly searching for something before continuing. “- X is up to somefing. Look at this, yeah, and tell me what you make of it.”
Stress walked over, sitting down next to him and sliding the communicator over for him to see. It was opened on the direct messages with Xisuma, and looking at the last line… Well. It certainly was something.
<xisumavoid> if you start getting messages from an account named Xisuma, do NOT trust the contents but play along as though you do.
“So… That sounds like someone is trying to make us believe they’re X, but the real X noticed already? Something like that at the very least,” Jevin didn’t sound too certain of himself, not entirely sure how the puzzle pieces fit together. “But that doesn’t make sense with the whole ‘play along’ thing. So basically… We’re trying to make someone believe that we believe that they’re X, while we know it’s not? I don’t know what kind of three-hundred IQ strategy is going on here, but I think I’m a little bit glad I won’t have to do too much with it.”
He sighed, adding this new thing to his mental corkboard of things that were apparently happening. There was… Quite a lot, really, but this was not one he would be too actively participating in. After all, that eight-legged excuse for a rake still had his communicator. Fake Xisuma could message him all he wanted, he would not be getting a response. Not from him, at the very least.
“That’s what I thought, yeah. It’s basically the same as when Joe made a script for us to follow, except this time it’s all gonna be improv,” she smiled. “Nofing we can’t handle, I’d reckon. After all, most of what we do is improvising, innit?”
“Yep.”
Jevin stood up, shoving the last bit of pancake into his mouth before grabbing his plate and dumping it in the sink.
“By the way, thank you Stress. This… I needed this. Just a moment to kind of wind down, you know?” He leaned back, turning to look at her.
“You’re more than welcome, luv. If you need some more of that just let me know, alright?”
He simply nodded in response, and the ice queen clapped her hands together.
“Good! Then… Do you mind helping me out with enchanting for a little bit? There are still a few swords that need some books smacked into them, and it’s nice to have a second pair of eyes checking over it. Only if you feel like it, of course! If you want to just go and rest up some more that’s also okay!”
For a moment, Jevin considered the question. While he wasn’t too sure he could do the hard work with his wrist as it currently was, he had nothing against hanging out and helping. It definitely beat sitting somewhere alone, and the distraction would be good too.
“Sounds good, Stress. Let’s go?”
“Excellent, fanks luv! Let’s get this done.”
Notes:
uni has been absolutely kicking my ass, but i'm back! sorry it took a while!
Chapter 76: Arc 2 - 28
Summary:
An attempt at freedom.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Bright green broke through the black of his unconsciousness as his systems slowly started to reboot. Code danced before his eyes, the text familiar, so damn familiar. It sparked a certain sense of recognition within him, a recognition that was pushed to the back of his mind when the code cracked and exploded as webs formed in its stead.
Not as far back as before, though. Enough for him to be able to think. Enough for him to be able to remember. Biffa wasn’t sure how much time had passed since the last time he had been this lucid for this long, but that was something he could figure out later. The most pressing point right now was figuring out how to hijack his systems with just his mind to help him, without that other version of him noticing.
That other version, in the meanwhile, was blinking awake as his visual sensors turned on, allowing Biffa to see what was going on. It was… Well. The room could be anywhere. It was hewn from stone, with a heavy metal door and iron bars instead of windows. He could see a bed, too, and a table up against the wall, but besides that the room seemed empty. Of course, there was the chair he was sitting in, but he wasn’t counting that.
He had a feeling he had seen this very room before, some time ago, but whether it had been minutes or months ago he couldn’t quite say. Biffa just knew that that last time, there had been someone present, someone he had tried to ask for help. How long had it been since then? How long had his mind been locked away in a subsystem this time?
More importantly, what had happened to that other person? Were they safe? The robot really hoped he hadn’t hurt them, or rather, that the servant hadn’t done so. After all, Biffa knew what he had been capable of even when he tried to stop him, let alone what might happen without those subtle interventions.
The robot pondered and pondered while the servant looked down, seeing the ropes and bonds that had been used to tie him up. There were more, this time, and thicker too, and it seemed like someone had decided to be smart and add chains in the mix as well. Metal didn’t burn, after all.
Somewhere, Biffa was glad for the bonds, if only because he knew that that other version of him hated them. Besides that, though, it was the knowledge that these were not the types of bonds that spider used. No, this looked more… Done by people.
Suddenly, there were the sounds of footsteps getting closer, and then the jingle of keys in a lock. His attention shifted over just as the door opened. And in walked someone he recognised. Someone he had first met years ago, worlds before this one. Someone he had never seen with a more serious look on his face.
Joe? That’s Joe!
Biffa wanted to smile, he wanted to say something in recognition, but found that he couldn’t. While he was more lucid now, he still very much lacked control over his body. That was sadly still in the hands of the servant, who was using it to just stare down the poet as he walked closer. In his hands were a teapot and a few cups and saucers, which he neatly placed on the table.
“Howdy, Biffa! How’s your head? Sorry we needed to knock you out, but if we hadn’t, that would’ve turned into proper bloodshed.” There was no fear in his voice, but whether that was an act or not he didn’t know. Still, it was nice to hear a friendly voice again, even though he knew he couldn’t answer. He first needed to get more of a foothold before he tried some more high-key things like taking control over his mouth. If he went too quickly with this, that other version of him would simply push him away again and there wouldn’t be anything he could do.
As such, Biffa couldn’t stop the servant from responding, much as he had wanted to.
“A shame. My liege would have enjoyed more flies in their web. Now, let me loose so I can finish my task.”
The poet sighed, shaking his head.
“Believe me, I would love to, seeing that you are still my friend. Before I can, though, I will have to bring that spider’s control over you to an end. I’m quite sure the normal Biffa would understand, so, core concept, I’m lending him a hand.”
Internally, Biffa was smiling. This, this was good. He wasn’t sure how Joe was going to help him, but anything was better than nothing. It was just really surprising to know that his friends did still care, despite everything the servant had possibly done to them, despite the time that had passed since he had seen them last.
Why does that thought come as a surprise? Why did I not expect them to care?
He scoured his memories, vague as they were, trying to make a connection between what he had experienced and what his instincts now were. The spider was absolutely to blame for it, he was relatively sure of that, but that was just about all he could gather.
“Do you really think whatever you are planning would be able to undo the work of my liege? You must be joking. Just give up already. It. Won’t. Work,” hissed the servant, staring Joe straight in the eyes. Instead of flinching away, though, the poet stood proud.
“It seems you’ve forgotten how absolutely stubborn us Hermits can be. So, these attempts to discourage? They really only encourage me.”
“Even the strongest wills can be broken,” the servant retorted, and Biffa felt the urge to hurt, to maim, to kill, bubbling up, but those weren’t his feelings. Those were the servant’s; those came from the influence of that spider.
“Mine won’t be. That being said, care for a cup of tea?”
The servant squinted, and Biffa paid closer attention as Joe turned on his heels, walking to the teapot and pouring a cup, and then a second. Before long, the smell of Earl Grey filled the cell. The poet moved the table to be a little bit closer, yet out of reach of the robot. Then he offered one of the cups to him.
“Whatever that is, I don’t want it. This is pointless,” the servant started, and somehow, Biffa felt as though he could possibly just… Move a little bit, internally. Tea, he knew tea. The smell brought back memories, and for a moment, he ignored whatever that other version of him was saying. Instead, he focussed as he followed a trail of memory, getting closer to his core.
A bench in a small garden, the sounds of the ocean in the background. The sun filtered down through the branches as he sat, sipping a cup of tea with one of his oldest friends, that had briefly taken off his helmet for the occasion.
A hole in the ocean, a half-circle filled with redstone lamps, birch, and spruce. A message received on his communicator, calling him to the Agency.
An island, the surface covered in endstone. The headquarters of the Tea Eaters Agency stood there in the night, light filtering through the windows. The fabric of his suit felt strange on the metal of his body, but he was not complaining.
His friend showing off the vault, all diamonds and no tea. The breeze carried salty air through the holes where windows should be.
A room underground, colour coded and built from sandstone. Tea again, with that same friend, inside this time. Hushed voices, talking about moving to a next world, and leaving people behind. An agreement struck in the dead of night.
The next thing he knew was the smell of Earl Grey becoming stronger, as his heat sensors told him something warm was very near his face. The memory of the last time he had been lucid was still in his mind, and suddenly Biffa knew what he had to do. Perhaps it was against what he stood for, but he could use exactly that, because the servant wouldn’t expect it, he knew that.
He also knew he probably only had one chance to get this right. One chance to take control of his main circuits, one chance to shove the servant to the side. If he failed… Well. Biffa wasn’t sure when or if he would get the chance to try it again.
Still, there wasn’t much he could do to prepare. He went over the memories he had again, one last time, and then went for it.
While the servant started speaking, Biffa pushed. He pushed and strained to take control for just a second. Just a singular second, that was all he would need. The servant fell silent as he felt the sensations shift, as though they were no longer coming through a window before getting to him, and he knew this was his moment.
Biffa pushed, physically this time, slamming the cup of tea in front of him down with his head. The drink splattered out of the cup and over him, and several of his sensors immediately started warning him about possible water damage and sudden increases in temperature.
It was a perfect chaos, and this time, Biffa had known it would be coming.
This time, he could push through hard, while the servant was momentarily distracted by the sudden onslaught of warnings.
This time, he could manage to reach the central processing unit.
This time, he felt his consciousness take a hold over it once more.
This time, he was ready when the servant tried pushing back.
“Joe… Memories… now,” he managed to bring out, his voice strained but clear.
“Memories?” came a questioning response, but Biffa was too focussed on staying where he was to actually answer.
“Wait, you’re… Gotcha!” He was silent for a moment, and then he started speaking again. He spoke of the world they had first met in, when Joe had first joined the group. He spoke of people now long gone to different worlds, of builds they had once been proud off. He spoke of pranks, he spoke of groups, he spoke of hopping to different worlds. It seemed effortlessly, the way he composed his words into poetry, reminding Biffa of what once was, of who he was, of where he came from.
And it empowered him.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he felt how the servant lost ground bit by bit. Slowly, ever so slowly, his mind cleared up, a green fog lifting. It wasn’t perfect, he knew it, he felt those places where the servant stayed rooted, but that was something he could figure out later. Right now his concern was simply winning back most of his mind.
And Joe talked on and on and on, about Abba caving in their second world, about the high mountains around worldspawn in their third world, about the mega blocks that had formed Biffa’s base in their fourth world and about the prank where one of them had been turned into a pumpkin, about the fish farms in their fifth world, and their role in the war between the OHO, the nHo, and the resistance, about the ocean monument that had become Biffa’s base in their current world. And throughout, Joe spoke of the friendships they had found, about the fun, about the days where the group would just come together and play minigames, about the evenings when they would sit and tell stories.
Every little bit, every little detail fuelled Biffa to keep going, to keep pushing, to keep fighting. This life was his, and his alone, and he was not going to give that up. He was not going to let it be controlled by that spider, not anymore. That had been the case for way too long now, and quite frankly, he was done.
And so, with one last push, he managed to push that other version of him away, raising up a firewall between him and it.
Biffa barely even realised he was panting as he blinked back into focus. The poet was still speaking on and on and on, and for what felt like the first time in a long time, Biffa smiled. Then, he started either laughing or crying, he wasn’t too sure. Perhaps it was both of those. It was enough to get the attention of the other man, in any case. The poet’s eyes widened, and then he shut up, speechless. The same thing went for the robot, mostly, unsure of what even to say. He simply didn’t have the words to express his gratitude, he didn’t have the words to express his happiness.
Instead, he said the one string of words his mind managed to put together, his voice shaky but his lips smiling.
“So, Joe, how about that cuppa tea?”
[END OF ACT 2]
Notes:
this felt like about the right moment to call the end of this act. from here on out... well. apparently there's gonna be a third act to this.
also, keep an eye on my tumblr! i may or may not have an additional thing there, related to this chapter...
Chapter Text
Time went both slower and quicker than any of them thought. Doc mostly slept through it, having finally been convinced to take a nap and being held to it by TFC, who had cheerily said he would knock the cyborg out himself should that convince him to get some shut-eye. Cub was doing much the same, the wound on his head slowly but surely disappearing as he lay smack in the middle of the beacon beam. Zedaph was there too, mostly to keep an eye on things and to occasionally replace the wet towel on Cub’s forehead. His little corner had stacks of paper and a few jars of gunpowder spread over it, as well as a small stack of freshly rolled fireworks. He rolled new ones as fast as he dared, making sure all of them had their fuses in the right place. After all, Zed didn’t want them to fail somewhere above the Void, that would be bad.
Elsewhere, Impulse had dragged Keralis along for some more trading to get the last few books needed to complete the suits of armour and weaponry that were needed, delivering them to Stress when they were done. The ice queen herself was hammering away again while Jevin handed her the various components she needed. They didn’t speak much, given that Stress needed to really focus, but Jevin didn’t mind in the slightest. The sound of hammer on anvil was loud enough to drown out his thoughts, and he felt himself relax with every blow.
At the same time, Xisuma had gone back to reading through logs, and trying to find out how his brother had broken out of the dimension he had been banished to. So far, each line he read had just frustrated him more, as it offered no explanation in the slightest, and in the end, he just had to give up the search, instead opting to start setting things in motion for the raid. His brother, meanwhile, was still rowing towards the admin’s base, blissfully unaware of what was happening in the background. His mind was focussed on one thing and one thing only, and that was getting his revenge.
Mumbo still felt confused and slightly betrayed as he wandered the hallways of the bunker, knowing he had a task to finish but needing a little bit of time to process the information that had just been given to him. Those few minutes were not going to matter. That half an hour wouldn’t do so either. After all, there was no way for Arachne to know that he had already retrieved the communicator. He could stall a little. At least, that was what he kept telling himself.
Tango kept half an eye on Mumbo as he wandered, but most of his focus went to the footage of the various drones and camera’s spread out over the entrances. He doubted there would be anyone coming in anytime soon, but on the off chance that one of his friends would manage to escape, or that that spidery bastard would send another of their servants after them… Well. Better safe than sorry. His head was trying to work out a plan for suppressing the wildfire at the same time, but he knew that that was probably going to have to wait a bit, until after they had gotten their friends back.
One of the friends that they had just gotten back was slowly being fed sips of tea as Joe recounted tales and memories from before, as well as catching him up to speed with some of the things that had happened in the few months between having been captured and having been freed. Ropes and chains were still holding Biffa back, but it was one of the things they had agreed upon briefly after he had taken back control. They were there just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke, that Biffa was able to hold control for a good period of time. After all, neither of them wanted another rampage by a robot that was out of his mind. Besides, it had been Biffa himself to suggest it.
The same could not be said for Wels. He was still singing as he lay on the floor, stretched out as far as he could, trying to get to Scar’s empty collar. It was the closest he had to a tool, and perhaps… Perhaps the chain that kept him where he was would be weaker than the collar. He didn’t plan on giving up hope, and so he had to keep trying, had to keep finding new things that could mean his freedom.
A cell further down the hallway, Python was also laying still on the ground, his mind far away. His body was still occasionally twitching, but it seemed like the poison was finally starting to weaken. Still, it was easier to just not think. It was easier to just retreat to a place where no one could get to him, where he could be calm and content and at peace. Where he didn’t have to remember how his friends had left him on his own when he had needed them most. Where he could pretend that things were okay, that he was okay.
Not too far away three little spiders were picking out their armour and weaponry. It wasn’t metal, nor was it leather or diamond. Instead, it was the same green as their master’s carapace, and undoubtedly just as sturdy. Some parts fit properly, some needed some small adjustments, but in the end, they were all suited up, blades of a dark, jagged material hanging from their hips. Their servant’s coats flowed from under their chestplates, the layers of stacked cobwebs shifting around a little bit as they moved. They only needed to get one last gift from their master, and then they were ready to follow their orders.
The last little spider was rummaging through a different bit of storage, where the building materials were kept. He had his own task to think about, but unlike the others, he probably wasn’t going to get into combat at any point. Some parts of him thought that was a shame. Others were relieved. After all, his task was going to be difficult enough as it was, and he knew fighting wasn’t his forte. Still, he kept gathering building blocks as he scoured his memories for a good place to start construction. One image kept finding his way to his mind’s eye, a vision of dripping water and bubbling lava. It would do nicely.
At the same time, Arachne was sitting in the middle of their web, their eyes focussed on eternity as they looked, seeing that which the smallest of their spiders were seeing. They didn’t quite like what they were seeing, though, in those few moments before another one of those pesky flies squatted yet another one of their eyes in the enemy base. With a frustrated sigh, they returned to the there and then. Their plans would need to be changed slightly, it seemed, but that was acceptable. Perhaps it was even better, this way. The time to go into the last phases was nigh.
“Oh no you don’t!” she growled, before planting the back of her crossbow firmly against the spider until it went splat against the wall. Cleo had simply been picking up the last few things she needed for the raid, double-checking her supply of crossbow bolts and rockets when she had spotted the arachnid lurking on the wall. How long it had been there, she wasn’t sure about, but it didn’t matter. Not anymore.
Before, she would have tolerated its existence.’
Now, she knew it had to go, terminated with extreme prejudice.
When nothing remained but a vaguely green stain on the stone, the zombie continued packing the last few things. It wasn’t much more she was going to bring. She had already strapped on her armour and her elytra, and her weapons were hung in such a way that she could very easily get them when needed. The few potions she had been allocated were safe and secure in her inventory, as were a few extra stacks of arrows and rockets. There wasn’t really much more she felt the need to bring. An enderchest, perhaps, seeing how she liked to keep that stocked up with some things that were useful in general, but somehow, Cleo doubted she was going to have much time to rummage through it after they arrived.
She was doubting like that until a short knock on the door broke the relative silence of the room.
“Cleo, are you ready? Everyone is gathering.”
The zombie turned towards False, who was standing in the doorway, dressed in her regular clothes and holding what seemed to be a book about legends. It felt a little bit strange, to be more armoured than the fighter, but she quickly shoved the feeling away. She needed to focus, now. To focus on what was to come, to focus on the plan.
“Yes. And if I’m not… Well. Let’s just hope I am,” she answered as she shut the last chest, leaving her enderchest in there. And then she followed False towards the Nether portal, where a group was indeed gathering. Basically everyone was there, save for Cub and TFC, which meant it was a little crowded in the hallway, but it would just have to do.
“Ah, Cleo, you’re here too. That’s everyone, then, I think. Good, good. Right,” Xisuma started, before raising his voice and clearing his throat a little. What little chitchat was going on stilled, the tension rising. “You all know why we are here. You all know what has been going on, so I’m just going to be short here. To those that are going on the raid: I wish you all the luck in the world. Keralis, Doc. Zedaph, Impulse, Tango. Cleo and Joe. Bring them home, and hit that bastard where it hurts. Show them that they made a big mistake when they decided to mess with us.” His eyes slowly found every member of the raid party as he talked, and they stepped forwards as he said their names. Doc grinned as he did so, his trident already in his hands.
“Consider it done, X.”
The admin simply nodded, no sign of emotion on his face. Instead, he carefully kept it in a neutral mask.
“Xisuma, if I may? Before we go I have one more thing to say.” Joe barely needed to raise his voice to call the attention to himself, and there was something in his smile that told the other Hermits that it wasn’t bad news for once. Cleo raised an eyebrow, but paid attention anyway.
“Of course, go for it. After that, though, I need all of you to get going, it’s still quite far, and the sooner Scar and the others are out of there, the better.” The slightest hint of annoyance bled through into his voice, but if Joe noticed, he chose not to respond to it.
“In that case, I’ll try to make it quick. I talked to Biffa earlier, and I don’t think it was a trick. From what I saw, he managed to break through the spider’s spell, and while I wouldn’t yet call him well at the very least most of it he did quell,” Joe grinned. “But, this is progress, at least, and I think before long we can get him fully released.”
It was silent for a moment while people processed what the poet had just said. Cleo was quite frankly stumped, unsure how to react. Of course, she was glad that at least one of her friends seemed to have been saved, but she was still suspicious. The timing simply seemed way too convenient to be a coincidence. She was just about to say something about it, but Keralis had gotten to that point a little bit earlier.
“So, Joe, I trust your face, but… Where is he now? Because if it is a trick… You know?”
Cleo hummed in agreement, and a few others did the same.
“Don’t worry, there’s no need to be stressed. Biffa is still tied up tightly, at his own request. He shares your fear of a relapse, and agrees that this is for the best in case something inside him snaps.”
“I mean… That works, I guess?” Keralis nodded. Xisuma in the meanwhile dropped his neutral mask to smile. He and Biffa went way back, after all.
“Joe, this is excellent news, it really is! I’ll make sure someone keeps an eye on him to monitor his recovery, and when you get back, I’m going to need a full debrief on how you and Doc managed it. For now, though… Time is ticking. Raid party, I wish you all the best of luck, and please, come back in one piece. We cannot afford to lose any more people, not one of you, you hear me?”
The admin gestured to the portal, and Doc nodded.
“Thanks, X. Raid party, let’s go!” His face was filled with determination as the Hermits that stayed behind wished them good luck too, some waving, some catching themselves almost saluting. And then he hopped into the portal and disappeared within the purple swirls. Keralis followed, and Cleo felt her heartbeat speeding up as little bits of adrenaline started flowing through her system. She knew it would take a bit of time still before they would get to the End, and even longer before they would have reached the right coordinates in there, but she couldn’t help but feel a little bit nervous about it all.
Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango all stepped into the portal together, joined by their usual bit of banter and pushing around, and then just her, Joe, and those that would stay home remained.
“Well. Uh… I’ll see you all in a bit, then. Come on, Joe, let’s go.” The zombie grinned, grabbing the poet by the wrist and dragging him along before he could protest too much.
Standing in the purple swirls of the portal, she had to ignore the nagging feeling that this could well be the last time she would see any of them. She simply had to hope everything would go according to plan. Everything would be fine, wouldn’t it? It had to. It just had to.
Notes:
A chapter in two weeks after the last? What is this, a posting schedule?
If you're worried that I have found a posting schedule, fear not! Nothing is less true! Uni keeps kicking my ass but I'm gonna kick right back.
So uh, yeah. I hope next chapter is gonna be a little bit sooner than in two weeks, but I can't promise anything.
Still, thank you all for the continued support, it means the world to me!
Chapter 78: Arc 3 - 2
Summary:
A dimensional shift. Take flight, unseen.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
He knelt on the floor before his master as they hissed and clicked a stream of sounds he didn’t understand. He did understand the glow that surrounded him, though, and the glint on his chitinous armour and his sword. Sally understood what Arachne was giving him and the other servants, or at the very least, those in armour. The smiling one got glistening tools instead, tools made from the same jagged material as his blade. What it was, Sally didn’t know, but ultimately, did it matter? As long as it was strong and sharp it would be perfect for its goal.
It felt like quite some time had passed by the time the sounds stopped, but he didn’t know for sure. It could just as well have been a few minutes before his master spoke up once more.
“Rise, little spiders! You all know what to do, and where your targets are. However, I have decided to make a change to the plans. Instead of returning here when you’re done, you will be told where to go at a later point. And should you come across the Worldshaper… Take them alive. Dismissed!”
Sally got to his feet with a sly grin on his face. He had been looking forwards to this, to the chance to make his master proud of him. It spoke of quite some trust that they allowed him to go out, and he would not squander that trust. Especially not on his first time flying out since the start of his service.
He bowed to his master before turning on his heels, headed for the door. His wings twitched in anticipation as he turned left instead of right, towards the staircase that would lead up and out. Then he crouched slightly before jumping into the air, his wings beating as he moved forwards.
I will show those other two how it’s done.
Sally finished ascending the stairs before the others had even reached the bottom, but he was not going to wait for them. They had a vastly different assignment; it would not make sense for him to do so. And so, Sally only briefly slowed down to take in this new area of the lair before going for the door. He had been told how to get to the portal, and how to get to his target from there, and that was enough for him to work with. Besides, even if it wasn’t, he didn’t have much of a choice. If he failed this… Well. Sally would rather not think about the wrath he might incur if he did. His master had already made it abundantly clear how displeased they were with the other servant not yet having returned, and if at all possible, the little spider would like to not end up in the same situation.
Without thinking too much more about it, he threw open the doors to the outside, breathing in the slightly less stale air. It wasn’t a lot better than the air in the lair, and it lacked a certain… Sally wasn’t too sure about what it lacked, but it certainly lacked something. Maybe it was the smell of cobwebs that he missed, or the smell of rot, or the smell of spiders, he couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but he was sad it was gone nonetheless.
The vast darkness in front of him spread out like the darkness of the cells, deep down below the yellow stone the floating island seemed to be made of, but Sally knew that that was not where he was going. No, his way out of here laid behind the entrance to the lair, so that was where he went. He flew around the pillars holding up the roof, and then he landed in the middle of the portal, the green sheen washing over him with a nauseating finality.
The next time Sally blinked, he found himself laying on a soft surface, harsh light coming from everywhere around him. The smells of the place were intense, and the air was thicker than he was used to. Here, there was no skittering of spiders, here, he heard the sound of waves of water crashing against each other and against walls, here he could hear the clucking of chickens and the chattering of parrots and the clicking of dispensers and the humming of villagers and it was al so, so much at once. His nose wrinkled in disgust as he stood up, his bare feet finding smooth concrete instead of rough stone.
The little spider held his hand before his eyes to block out the worst of the light as he slowly got used to it, breathing slowly to get a feel for the air. He vaguely recognised the place he was in, and he could feel something inside of him stirring. Before it could lead to much, though, he pushed the thoughts away, crushing whatever bit of hope that pathetic other version of him had in the bud. He was not going to be distracted by such things. He had a task to do.
When he had the feeling that his senses were somewhat accustomed to the sheer amount of input they were suddenly receiving, Sally spread his wings once more. The place he was in seemed to have been built with flying around in it in mind, which was just about the only good thing he could say about it. It was both too sterile and too unorganised for his tastes, and he couldn’t wait to see what this place would become once his master had taken over.
He flew through one of the large openings in the wall, shooting into the outside air. It wasn’t much different from the air inside, except that the noises of waves crashing onto each other was stronger here, as was the smell of salt. It didn’t bother him as much now, though, as it had when he had just arrived through the portal. This was fine, this was something he could deal with, and this was something he would deal with.
Sally looked around, spotting a large island with multiple buildings on one side of the pillar of concrete and glass he had just come out of, and a sphere of even more concrete and glass a ways away on the other side. A line of white went over the waves below, coming from the larger island and going straight through the middle of the ocean between the two bases, rail tracks going over the top of it. But it wasn’t the rails he was interested in, nor the large island. He needed to go to the globe, because he knew that that was where his target would be. Maybe not right now, maybe not in half an hour, maybe not even in an hour, he just knew he was going to be there.
And so, he flew over, his wings beating powerfully to propel him forwards. It would go faster with rockets, but that would be a whole lot noisier too, and besides, the little spider would rather keep the few rockets he had managed to find in one of the chests back in the lair in case he needed to make either really sharp turns or a quick getaway. None of those were things he was doing right there and then, though, and so his rockets stayed neatly in his inventory.
Once he got a little bit closer to the globe, though, he spotted the first problem he would encounter. Or well, he heard it. The buzz of something in the air. Something mechanical. Sally halted in mid-air, idly hovering as he looked around, trying to find whatever it was.
At first, it wasn’t visible in the slightest, and for the briefest of moments he thought he could have just misheard a bird or something. Seconds later, though, he could see it: Something painted a light blue and white, flying in lines too straight to be natural.
It wasn’t a bird, that much he was sure of. As for what it actually was… The word ‘drone’ came to mind. What also came to mind were the words of his master, about destroying all mechanical eyes. This was probably one of them.
Without a second thought, Sally unsheathed his sword, beating his wings to get a little bit more altitude before diving down, sword pointed forwards. It gleamed in the sunlight, the jagged edges casting stark shadows that did nothing to hide the sharpness of the blade.
It pierced through the drone with little resistance, and the little spider could hear some kind of alarm beeping on the thing as he dove down further, straight for the water below. He was going to destroy it, and render it completely unusable. That was what his master would want, and thus it was what he wanted.
The alarm kept beeping until the drone was submerged completely, and Sally pulled up harshly to hover just above the water. There, he put one foot on the blue surface of the drone, across the white text on there, and he kicked the thing from his blade. The edges didn’t help a lot with this, making the gash through the middle of the thing only larger, but Sally didn’t care. Brute force would solve this just fine. Besides, why would he care about extra damage on a thing he wanted destroyed anyway? If anything, this was even better.
The beeping went on for just a little bit longer until the drone spluttered and died, the rotating bits that had kept it in the air having stopped turning and the metal casing sinking to the bottom of the ocean.
Excellent. That’s one of them down, one less eye in the sky to worry about.
With a smirk the little spider flew upwards again, headed to the globe for real now. it felt good to have a single victory under his belt already, however small, and it made him almost restless to get on with the rest of his task. At the same time, he was well aware that the rest of what he was supposed to do here would probably not go this smoothly. It simply couldn’t, not when there were other people involved. It was a shame that people didn’t see the benefits of just giving in, of just joining his master’s cause without resistance. It would make everything so much easier, and he was certain that his master would like that a lot better.
Of course, they could resist, but the consequences would be theirs to bear. It wouldn’t be his problem, in any case.
Musing over the idea of a peaceful surrender, he touched down on the ground, between bits of land that seemed artificially square, which was saying something. They offered quite a bit of cover, though, and that was what counted.
His eyes moved around over the area a few times, scanning everything he saw in order to find things that could prove advantageous to him should it come to a fight, and to find those things that would actually hinder him. Well, hinder him, or expose him. He had been warned about the mechanical eyes – something he was certain meant ‘cameras’ – and was already planning on taking them down the moment he spotted one.
And spot one he did. One, and then another. And another. And another. The closer he looked, the more of the things he spotted, scattered around on the walls and edges of the area around. And Sally knew that if he could see them, they could see him.
Which would not do.
Which would not do at all.
With an annoyed sigh, he took out his blade again, and started moving around, going from camera to camera and destroying each and every single one he could find. He had the time.
His target wasn’t there yet anyway.
Notes:
oh, look, i broke 170k! (in my text editor anyway, dunno about ao3)
that being said, I can comfortably say there's gonna be slightly faster updates the coming month, im doing a writing challenge :D
Chapter 79: Arc 3 - 3
Summary:
The beginning of the End. A search underground.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The hot air of the Nether sadly quickly got replaced by the musty smell of the stronghold. Even quicker after that did the air go thin as the group appeared on the obsidian platform floating above the Void, materialising one by one. Impulse already had his communicator in his hands, fiddling with the buttons to get it to be in coordinate mode, while Doc was looking around, suspicion in his eyes.
Tango himself merely checked his elytra, double-checking that it was still durable enough to make the flight. In retrospect it would probably have been good to have brought some bottles of enchanting for emergency mending purposes, but it was a bit late for that now. Nothing they could do to change anything about that, although he suspected Impulse might still have a few of them stashed away in his ender chest. If he brought the thing, at least. Well, someone was bound to have brought one, weren’t they?
“Zed, what were those coords again?” the trader asked, and Zedaph pulled out his own communicator to check.
“Uh… 3986 -2612, it seems. That’s what, four thousand blocks away? Five thousand? Something along those lines anyway. I think. It’s too early for proper maths,” he grinned in response, before faking a yawn.
“That’s quite a difference there, Zed. You sure we brought enough rockets?” Tango interjected, letting his elytra be for now.
“Of course we have!” he scoffed indignantly, “I spent all that time pouring my love into these very rockets, and then you assume I wouldn’t bring enough of them? For shame, Tango, for shame.”
Then, just to drive the point home, he put down a shulker box, which he then opened up. It was filled to the brim with fireworks with colourful red stripes, and Tango couldn’t help but whistle.
“Yeah, okay, that… That’s a lot. We should be fine.”
Zed picked the shulker up again, stowing it away into his inventory. The demon stretched a little, before walking over to Impulse and peering over his shoulder.
“You almost done here, Impy?”
His eyes darted over the communicator screen, that was now showing a few calculations.
“Yep! According to my calculations we should even be able to take a shortcut if we take that”- he pointed to one of the gateways a little bit to the right of them –“gateway. Not a lot, just a thousand blocks or so, but that should help us. And, bonus points, the gateway on the other side has not in fact been turned into a wither farm, so we can actually use it!” He was smiling, and wanted to divulge a little bit more about it, but before Impulse could continue, Doc cut in.
“Let’s go then. We got a spider to skewer, if you want to chitchat, you can do it on the way there.” He didn’t sound annoyed, instead it was more just to the point, wanting to get the ball rolling. Tango understood it, he really did. They had been pushing the raid forwards for a day or so already, ever since getting the coordinates from Wels. Of course, he liked to think they had good reason to, that they didn’t needlessly leave their friends in enemy hands for longer than they needed to be. He had to believe that, he couldn’t let guilt for doing that overtake him, not now. The demon couldn’t even imagine how it would feel for Doc, who had seen not one but two of his close friends get whisked away and now had to wait before being able to even so much as help them.
Impulse nodded, and jumped into the air, rocket in hand. He didn’t land on the obsidian, after that, instead flying over to the gateway and heading straight into it. It took a moment for the others to respond.
“Well? We haven’t got all day!” Cleo said, clapping her hands together as though she was herding a group of first-graders. It seemed to break the spell of just standing around, and the rest of the attack division took to the sky, following after Impulse. They had a long way to go.
And so they flew, gliding over the Void and the various islands of the End, big and small. They came across various cities, looted and un-looted alike, but the small team didn’t stop. They had no reason to, they already had everything they needed, and besides, it would only serve to waste their time. On and on they went, over chorus forests and endermen and patches of Void. There was some banter, at first, but the further they got, the less they talked. It was nervosity, or simply trying to get focussed, or simply a lack of topics, one of those had to be the reason. It wasn’t necessarily an unpleasant silence, though. It simply allowed them all to think a little for themselves, before getting into what would no doubt be a very hairy situation.
Even Impulse and Zedaph were uncharacteristically silent, and Tango had no choice but to turn to his mind in order to calm down the jitteriness in his body. Instead of thinking about what was ahead of them, though, his mind went to his iron farm, in an attempt to figure out a way to make it better, more efficient. Or just more fun to watch, really. It was insane how much stress he could get out of his system by simply going over farm designs in his mind. It was probably the logic behind it all that helped him, and the fact that there was a clear distinction between something that worked and something that didn’t. There simply was no grey area, and sometimes that was exactly what he needed.
And thus, he started thinking up improvements for the farm, as well as an idea for a new one, just in case. Ravagers could be fun to play with. Ravagers, or some other kind of pillager perhaps. Then again. Ravagers. That alone would give the farm cool points, just like the drowned with tridents had done for his current iron farm. Would it be difficult to wrangle them all into place? Undoubtedly. Then again, he had done more difficult things. It would be fine.
It would all be fine, both the farm and the raid.
They got this.
---
He had been sitting on the edge of the beacon, keeping an eye on Cub as he slowly healed. The capitalist was still out, but at the very least his breathing was calm and regular, almost as though he was just sleeping. It could well be that that was actually the case, though, given the amount of rest TFC knew he had had over the past few days. The old man made a mental note to make sure everyone actually went and took a long nap after all of this was over, because he knew Cub wasn’t the only person that had been skipping precious sleep.
He hummed a little as he leaned back. There wasn’t a whole lot to do right now besides waiting for news and maybe preparing for other things. What other things exactly TFC didn’t quite know, but he liked to imagine it was just going to be more mining or something similar. Something he didn’t have to think about, something relatively safe.
His musings were interrupted by the door to the room opening, and Stress came walking in.
“How is he doing now, luv?” she asked, some worry clearly laced through her voice. In response, TFC looked over his shoulder, glancing at Cub before turning back to the ice queen.
“He’s sleepin’. No sign of wakin’ up just yet, but that might just be better.”
“Yeah, that’s fair. Can’t sit still that man, now can he?” Stress chuckled, before hopping onto the beacon pyramid too. “If you want, luv, I can look after him for a bit, cause I’m done with enchanting, and I was planning on taking a bit of a rest anyway. Might as well do it here, you know? Two birds, one stone.”
The old man stroked his beard. He did want to go and double-check the mines for a little bit, as well as some of the other nooks and crannies of the vault, just to make sure there were no threats in the perimeter.
“Sounds good! If you need it, there’s water over there, as well as a few bits of towel. I doubt it’s gonna be necessary, though, last I checked Cub doesn’t have a fever or anything.” He pointed at the bucket next to the beacon pyramid, and then to the neat stack of bits of folded fabric next to it. “Let us know when he wakes up, so I can tell that numbnuts to take care of himself a little bit better.” Despite his gruff tone, it was still very clear that he wasn’t angry or anything, just worried.
“Alright, I can work with that. Also! You take care of yourself too! Don’t think I don’t see that bloody hole in your shirt there, mister.” She raised her eyebrows as she stared at him, and TFC almost automatically raised his hand to cover up the pickaxe wound.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’ve sat on that regeneration beacon for long enough. Besides, that damn robot needs to try a whole lot harder if he wants to kill me.” He laughed a throaty laugh, though he tried to keep it down a bit. Just a little bit, though. It was true. He had had mining accidents worse than this, and you didn’t become as old as he was by immediately running off the moment things stopped bleeding. Still, Stress was looking at him like she didn’t quite believe him.
“Uhuh, sure,” she answered, “Just know that I won’t come and patch you up when it all opens up again.” The ice queen tried to make her facial expression a little bit harder, but after a few seconds she sighed, and her expression softened again. “Oh, who am I kidding, I probably would do just that, won’t I? Anyway, what I’m trying to say is just take care, okay? Can’t have more people dying, especially not to silly things like stubbornness.”
“Well, I personally don’t plan on dyin’ anytime soon, ya know. No need to worry about me.” TFC then just chuckled as he stepped down, walking out of the room with a short wave.
“You better!” Stress called after him, and the old man rolled his eyes. Those youngsters and their worries.
He started his round of checking things by heading for the ladders and going all the way down them, to where his branch mine started. While he knew it was too extensive to completely check it, it was probably for the better if he would go and make sure that at the very least the main tunnels were still good, and that the underground railway to the shopping district was all clear too. It was good to have an extra escape route available, even if they didn’t foresee needing it. And it would simply royally suck to discover while trying to escape that said escape had been overrun by more of those damn spiders.
And just like that he found himself hopping into a minecart and pressing the button that would make it kick into motion. It was probably not the best idea to be heading off alone, but then again, he doubted someone would notice him in this network of tunnels he had dug. Besides, this was a place where he had the advantage, he knew this place like the back of his hand, and he doubted others did.
As the minecart rolled, TFC looked around, checking for cobwebs and spiders alike. And if he came across one… Well. He had a torch, and he was not afraid to use it. These were his tunnels, after all. Luckily, though, he arrived at the other end of the track without having to stop for such a thing even once, which was at the same time something he did not trust in the slightest. It felt strange to not come across a single trace of the spiders, like something was trying to lull him into a false sense of security. That being said, TFC was also not going to hope for a few spiders to come in and make a web for the express purpose of him to burn them, because that would feel… Well, counterproductive, almost.
Just to be absolutely sure of things, the old man poked his head through the floor of his little mining shop to check that too, but it all looked just like it had done when he had left it. Clean, neatly ordered. The building itself was simple, perhaps, but that also made it very easy to oversee what was going on inside of it, and to the best of his perception, he also didn’t see cobwebs in here.
That same thing could not be said from the rest of the shopping district, as he could see through one of the windows in the door. He could see the webs in various places, even with spiders perched proudly in the middle of them in some cases. He squinted at them through the glass, before making doubly sure that the door to his shop was locked – no one was going to buy things anyway right now – and depositing a small amount of dirt in front of it, effectively blocking the little bit of space between the door and the floor. Could spiders dig? He frankly doubted it, but if they could… Well, good for them, he guessed. There wasn’t a lot more he could do in order to make this entrance more secure, but the important part was that he at the very least had tried.
And with that, he went back to his minecart, hopping in to return to the vault. There was a lot of tunnel to check still, and then after that still a lot of vault too. At the very least he now knew that this part was safe, and that was something.
And now for the rest of it.
Notes:
told ya it was gonna be fast ;)
so that writing challenge is working fine with getting words out
Chapter 80: Arc 3 - 4
Summary:
Wrapped in trouble. Old bonds are honoured.
Notes:
TW for spiders for the first perspective as a whole. I'll put a short summary in the end notes should you chose to skip it.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Of course he felt it when they moved him. Of course he felt the pulling on the chain, and the way the pull was suddenly gone. Of course he felt cold metal being wrapped around his wrists and ankles, of course he heard the new rattling of chains. It simply cost too much energy to respond to it, and frankly, Python had learned his lesson. To evade pain, it was the easiest to just go along with it all. To just go along and hope.
That’s why he barely even responded when he felt spiders crawling onto him, and towards his face. He knew what they were doing the moment he felt sticky bits of spider silk appearing over his lips and chin, going all the way around, and while it would be very easy to just open his mouth, to just snap the threads before there could be too many of them, the idea of having a spider accidentally – or on purpose – going into his mouth was not one he liked to amuse. As such, he just laid there as the arachnids spun on and on and on, covering his jaws and clenching them shut.
He had hoped that would be enough, of course. He had hoped the spiders would just crawl off again and leave him in his misery.
And yet, they didn’t.
No, instead, they only crawled a little bit higher, and for a short moment, Python wondered what they were doing, what the next part of their master plan was. It became all too apparent when he felt them skittering over his temples, and before he could close his eyes, he saw the hairy legs of a spider moving into his field of few, followed shortly after by its head and its fat abdomen. It moved further and further until it was over his right eye, and then even further still, slowly crawling to the other side of his head with a string of pearly white silk following it. This was the moment that Python started seeing that perhaps this situation was a little bit different than he had anticipated.
Are they just gonna wrap me up completely? Are they finally gonna just kill me? I… I guess that’s fine. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll respawn back at my base. Wouldn’t that be nice?
Still, where he had been quite able to force himself to lie still when they were gagging him, that became a whole lot less easy now that the spiders were near his eyes. It didn’t stay with just the single one, though, before he knew it the first spider was followed by another and another, all crawling without paying much attention to the shivers going through his body, without paying much attention to him closing his eyes to block them out, without them paying attention to him trying to raise his hands to smack them away.
And he would have done so, were it not for something crawling onto his chest and arms, something larger than the spiders on his face. It felt almost like one of the large spiders one would encounter in a cave in the Overworld, the type large enough for skeletons to ride on. Python swore he could feel its mandibles on the skin of his neck, and he did not particularly feel like being poisoned again and having to go through all of that pain again. No, if he had to go… He just hoped they would make it quick.
He lay there quivering as the spiders worked on and on, wrapping the silk around his eyes as they had done with his mouth. He wasn’t sure what it all was for, but his mind did its best to convince him of some particularly bad scenarios. Judging by what had happened to him in that cell so far, though, he wouldn’t even judge any of those scenarios as being unrealistic, and that was saying something.
It was a while later that he felt them moving away from his face, and more towards his torso and legs. The large spider still didn’t move, though, and when Python finally dared to open his eyes, he was only greeted by a dark grey, where layers upon layers of silk blocked out virtually everything. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he realised that he really didn’t like where this was going, but somewhere, he knew it was a little bit late to stop it. When he tried to move his arms again, he was met with more resistance than before, as more and more spiders seemed to pile upon him, and more and more webbing was spun all over him. For every thread he managed to rip, three more took its place, and he stifled a sob as he realised that the legs he felt crawling over him were only getting larger and larger, as did the weight they carried over him. It was a number of spiders he really wouldn’t like to fight even in a full set of armour, let alone vulnerable as he was now.
And so, instead of fighting, he just laid there shivering and trying to think happy thoughts.
He was barely even aware of the web in front of his eyes slowly getting wet.
The wide grin on his face never faltered as he trotted behind his possessor. Call it force of habit, call it muscle memory, it didn’t matter. The grin was a conditioned reaction, ingrained over many months of service to different creatures.
Creatures that had mostly left him alone since moving on to a new world, but that he had never quite gotten rid of.
Creatures that had been dormant until now.
Creatures that had claimed him as theirs.
Creatures that weren’t quite happy with the thing currently invading his mind.
Creatures that had been all too happy to step in at the first moment the control of that other thing faltered for the slightest moment.
It was their own perverse way of keeping him safe, he knew that, and their control felt almost like breathing in winter air. It was familiar to him and giving in to it wasn’t even a conscious decision. All Scar had to do was simply leaning back and letting go.
Still, despite the might the Vex held, his possessor was stronger, but where they lacked power, they brought something else to make up for it. Those that weren’t strong had to be smart to survive, and exactly that was their strong suit. Instead of fighting for total control, they were just fine with pulling a few strings here and there, nudging that other version of him to do things that would ultimately fit their own agenda. Things like suggesting a specific location for the thing that needed building, one that would be grandiose enough to be considered. It was not a lot, but in the long term, it would make all the difference.
And that’s how he ended up standing next to the portal while his possessor was making complex hand motions and calling forth various images, bits of text, and numbers, all connected by lines of webbing. What exactly they were doing, he wasn’t sure of, but he had no doubt he would figure it out eventually. Until then, that other version of him would happily just stand there and watch, still smiling that wide grin.
“It is done,” came his possessor’s voice after a while, and they gestured to the portal. “Follow, little spider.”
And follow he did. He stepped into the portal shortly after they did, and disappeared in a swirl of green nausea.
When he blinked once more, the original part of him had expected to lay on top of his bed in the bunker. Nothing was less true, however. He found himself stepping out of a portal that looked much the same as the one outside the lair, and instead of in the bunker, Scar was almost shocked to recognise where he was. Rough stone walls reached up high into the sky, while fire crackled below him. It was warm, but not quite as oppressively hot as the Nether would be, and as he looked around, he could see the few places where the cave met the sea. The main feature of the place, however, was a second cone reaching up, one made of darker stone and magma, with bits of obsidian sprinkled throughout it where old lava had solidified.
My volcano? But… Why?
All part of the plan.
The answer of the Vex did not do a lot to help him understand, but then again, he doubted they needed him to do so. Even in situations where the stakes were less high, they barely ever divulged their plans to him, so this was more or less the normal way for things to go between them.
“This is where you will build my throne. From here I will rule. Those pesky Hermits think they’re the best thing that ever happened to these lands, but that isn’t true, and I will show them.” Arachne walked forwards, taking in the surroundings with a content expression on their face. Internally, Scar was protesting the course of things, but the Vex kept him quiet from the spidery part of his mind.
Ye cannot let them know ye are free. Not yet.
But they’re going to make me ruin this place! I can’t just… I can’t just do that! I-
Silence! Ye will not have to do anything, ye body will. Now stop complaining and let go.
Scar grumbled and wanted to go against it, but he knew they had a point somewhere. There was little he could do to protest, not while that spidery bastard was still there. Not while his inner monologue was as in shambles as it was. Not while the Vex where trying to manipulate their way through this. Not while they needed him to sit back and not be in the way.
Judging by the slight cold and numbness the edges of his mind were by the time he was done thinking that, Scar could tell that they were trying to nudge him into a specific direction, and with an internal sigh he simply complied, getting back to the backseat and looking on while his body moved.
“Of course, Possessor. It will be done.”
His voice sounded strange to his ears, warped by a smile that wasn’t quite his, saying words that he would never quite say. The motion of taking out boxes of resources was familiar though, although the materials themselves weren’t. Scar knew what would be next. Scar knew that he would change up the volcano he spent literal months working on to something he did not agree with, for reasons he hated. And Scar knew that the Vex had a plan, something they would not tell him just yet. Something that would hopefully save the day.
For now, though, there was little more he could do than to just sit back and look at the materials, and to try to figure out what he would have built with them in a different situation, in a different timeline. Despite it all, the materials themselves had textures he had never seen before, in shades he hadn’t come across, and that was always a fun challenge.
Anything to keep his mind occupied, right?
Notes:
we're getting somewhere, kids.
summary of the first perspective: python gets wrapped in cobwebs by a bunch of spiders with no sense for personal space.
Chapter 81: Arc 3 - 5
Summary:
No more procrastination. The hunt is on.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When the raid party had left, he had no excuse anymore to not go and do as both his admin and his enemy had asked of him. And so Mumbo found himself slipping out of the bunker, going for speed over stealth. After all, he knew that there was going to be a brief period in which no one would be watching the cameras, and this… Somehow this did not feel like something that he wanted the others to see, not even while they already knew what was going on. Perhaps he thought it was too shameful, or perhaps… Perhaps he just hoped that that spider hadn’t noticed anything yet. After all, as long as they believed he was still doing exactly as they said… Well, that would mean there was still a chance to get Grian back in one piece, right?
With a sigh, he walked around a corner, going out of sight before strapping on his elytra. Everything to stall for just a little bit longer. A minute here, a minute there. Mumbo even went as far as to actually walk into the shopping district before realising he just needed to get it over with or it would never get done.
The redstoner momentarily fiddled with the buttons on his suit, before pulling out his rockets. Then, with a last longing stare back to where the entrance of the bunker was, he pulled the string, and jumped into the air. The wind moved past him at speeds almost high enough to draw tears, but a combination of readjusting his helmet and looking in a slightly different direction did wonders, and without further thinking, he set course for his base.
There was a buzzing in the air as he shot past Sahara, and as he looked to the side, Mumbo could see one of the ConCorp drones just going around corner on the far side of the building. Far enough away that he would probably be safe. Far enough away that it would probably not see him. At least, he hoped so. He wasn’t quite sure what kind of technology it had been loaded with since ConCorp and the HIB had banded together to do security, but he knew that whatever it was, it would be the cream of the crop. Cub would have made sure of that.
The land under him changed to water, and then to glass and concrete for the briefest of moments as he flew past his best friend’s base.
I hope I’ll see you back soon… It’s been far too quiet here without you.
Then he shook the thoughts from his head, and continued on. His globe was already in sight, and Xisuma’s communicator felt heavy as lead in his pocket. It still felt wrong to even think about doing this, let alone doing it, but here he was, doing it anyway. Mumbo just hoped Xisuma knew what he was doing.
For the shortest time, he reconsidered turning around, or to just make an evasive manoeuvre and go somewhere else, or to land somewhere else in his base and waste some time, but in the end he came to the same conclusion as earlier: he needed to get this over with at some point, and it would be sooner rather than later. As such, he compromised, flying a single lap around his base to just see if there were any spiders about – there weren’t – before touching down on the ground near the secret room. It still looked the same as when he had last left it, so that was good, although he couldn’t help but wonder whether or not the admin and the others had gone in there at some point. How else could they have known of his assignments?
Mumbo walked over to the door, only to then realise he had no redstone torch in his inventory. That was slightly problematic, given that he needed one to actually open up the door, but they didn’t call him a redstoner for nothing. Instead, he simply took out his enderchest, plopping it down on the ground before rummaging through it.
“Now where’s that redstone box? I swear I had one in- a, there it is! See? Panic for nothing,” he muttered to himself, before putting the red shulker on the ground next to the chest, only to repeat the same thing.
“Torch, torch, where oh where are you torch… Hmm, I swore I had one in here. Uh, now what?”
Mumbo bit his lip, staring at all the bits and bobs inside of the shulker before his eyes fell on an unassuming lever. For a short moment, he simply stared at it. Then he facepalmed.
“I’m such a spoon. Of course. Of course! I just have to power that block, I can use any redstone signal for that! I really do need to go build that spoon-counter, don’t I?” The redstoner chuckled, grabbing the lever. However, before he could put it down, he heard a voice behind him. One he recognised all too well. One that most definitely sounded off.
“No need for that. Hand it over.”
Mumbo turned around, the lever falling from his hands, totally forgotten. The blood drained from his face as he saw who was standing there.
“Grian?!”
Water dripped down from the ceiling, falling into the water and onto the stones at seemingly random intervals. He smelled it, too. He smelled the humidity in the air, the slight hints of staleness, void, and sulphur mixing throughout it. He smelled the smell of dirt and old stone, the smell of vegetation and petrichor and dead bugs and wool and wood and smoke and the lingering smell of people. And he smelled the one besides him, old blood and sweat and dried tears and the vaguest hint of ozone creating a rather unique scent fingerprint, one he could recognise basically anywhere.
That other person wore the same armour he did, and was currently looking around, scanning the room with his singular eye. The werewolf simply looked along, even though he knew by smell alone that there was no other humanoid there. There had been, but that was either a while ago, or they hadn’t been there for long, because the scent was barely present anymore. He sniffed around in a few places, and came to the conclusion that they had come from the purple portal and had gone into the one surrounded by yellow stone. In other words, nothing they should worry about. These were not people they would encounter on their way to their target.
“Let’s go,” he growled, not even bothering to wait for the other servant. If he came, he came, and if not… Well. He wouldn’t be the one in trouble with Arachne. Then he moved, half sprinting, into the purple portal.
The other side of it barraged him with an even more intense barrage of smells, this time mostly sulphur and brimstone and lava and smoke, mixed in with dust and dead coral and sand and moss and wood and the lingering scent of various people again, as well as the crisp smell of ice. Not that the werewolf was going to question that. Nether or Overworld, ice or no ice, he had a task to do. He half-sprinted towards the end of the hallway he was in, then paused briefly to get his bearings.
The source of the smell of ice was all too quickly found, and while the smell of dead coral became a little bit less, he picked up the scent of cactus instead. He looked around, from one way to the other, trying to figure out what way he needed to go. It wasn’t hard, per se, given that the tunnel became less wide and less tall on one side, while it opened up to a larger open space on the other side, and the werewolf knew where to go next.
Footsteps behind him and the subtle smell of ozone told him that the other servant was following too, and with a grin he set off towards the open area. It all felt familiar, somehow, and he heard a voice inside him protesting against what he was doing. A voice that was weak. A voice that had never wanted to use his full powers, his full abilities. A voice that should not be allowed to survive, a voice that should have died already.
A voice he would personally kill, should it be necessary.
Still, that voice had no power over him. It couldn’t tell him what to do, it couldn’t tell him where to go. It couldn’t move his body for him, especially not in its current state. The voice knew that too, and it only protested harder because of it.
The werewolf was not going to listen, though. Not when he had prey to find. Not when he had throats to rip and blood to spill and guts to tear. Not when he could give in to those instincts for once, instead of having them suppressed by that pathetic little voice.
He went into a half-sprint again, this time in the direction of the open area. The carpeted part quickly approached, and the large hole in the middle came into sight. A hole he instinctually knew he needed to go through, and to just jump down it. His chitinous armour glinted in the glowstone light, and he bared his fangs in a grin. He was going to just go for it, and make it. He knew he wasn’t something that would just die, and that he instead was something that would survive.
The footsteps behind him wavered for a second as he approached the hole, and the werewolf jumped.
Hot air rushed past him as the ground sped towards him, and he squinted as he moved his limbs around in order to catch the brunt of the impact in a moment.
And the impact came.
His boots mitigated quite some of it, and rolling forwards immediately afterwards to contain some momentum surely helped too, but he still felt how the shock went through his knees, hips, and spine, all the way up to his head. It hurt, he was not going to deny that, but that hurt only made it easier to set his focus on the hunt. He hurt, so he would hurt others. It was that simple. He looked upwards, towards the other servant, who seemed to doubt for just a moment before jumping down as well.
His landing was less graceful, and he was quite sure he could hear glass crack as he stuck to the landing and his scent fingerprint was joined by the scent of fresh blood, but it really wasn’t his problem, now was it? Judging by the few curses that rolled over the lips of the other, he agreed to that.
With that, the werewolf looked around once more, nose in the air as he sniffed around. Closer to these portals, there were many smells again, albeit muted due to how little the air moved in the hub.
There was woods and grasses and flowers and salt and sand and a million other little smells that all fought for his attention, that all formed an image of what could lie beyond the portals. But none of those were what he was looking for. He was trying to find people, to follow the scent he had picked up on earlier. If he could figure out what portal they had come from… His gut told him that it would lead him straight to wherever the rest of them were hiding.
And so he sniffed, dismissing the smell of horse and the scent of wet concrete and the smell of pigs and ink and cobwebs and many, many more, before he found something he recognised from earlier.
People.
The same people he had smelled before, in that other portal room.
Now that he had picked up on it again, it was easy to follow the lingering traces that still hung in the air. The werewolf grinned wider.
“This way,” he growled, and he started his half-sprint following the scent towards one of the portals a bit further away from the middle. The ground under the glass was grey, there, and the portal wasn’t labelled as the others were, but he was certain this was the right one. The smell was stronger there, and besides that, he could smell more people.
No, not people.
Prey.
Notes:
did i mention ren was a werewolf yet? cause i sure hinted at that in earlier chapters :D
Chapter Text
At long last, the monotony of the End came to an end. Or well, it didn’t, it just got broken up by something none of them had seen before. Something that looked an awful lot like a small temple, columns and pediment and entablature and all. The only thing in which it slightly differed was the fact that it had actual doors blocking the way in, with dark wood that matched the almost black stone the rest was hewn from.
Doc didn’t need to look at Impulse to know that they had found it. It matched what little description they had gotten from Jevin earlier, and that was enough for him. After all, how big was the chance that that this was a decoy lair, just a little ways away from the real thing? That would be silly. Besides, he didn’t think their enemy would be inclined to do such a thing.
“Be ready. We don’t know what’s waiting for us in there!” he called over his shoulder to the others, before setting in a gradual descent for landing. The idea was to first make sure the outside was secure, before going in. After all, none of them were particularly looking forwards to being attacked in the back. If anything, that sounded like exactly what they didn’t want to happen.
“Roger that,” came Tango’s response, as well as a noise of agreement from Cleo. Behind him, the rest of the little raid party started descending too, headed straight for the ground. Some ran a last bit after touchdown in order to slow down, while others made a sharp turn at the last moment to get rid of their forward momentum entirely. All had basically the same effect, so it didn’t matter much who did what. It was simply down to personal preference and habit.
The cyborg looked around, leading the group around the building to make sure the exterior of the island was deserted and free from spiders. It was a shame that the endstone was as rigid as it was, as it made it quite impossible to discern earlier footsteps, but then again, why would there be, besides those of Jevin and maybe Biffa? Doc didn’t see why that spidery bastard wouldn’t still be in its lair, and given that the last time he knew they were out had been a full day ago… He doubted he was going to find anything.
Still, his eyes got drawn to a few blotches of blue on the yellow-ish stone, blue that was remarkably similar to the colour of his slimy friend. He felt a muscle under his eye twitch, and he halted for the briefest of seconds before moving on. If anything, it meant they had to be in the right place. How else could there be little bits of Jevin here?
The grip around his trident tightened as he walked on, around the corners of the building until he came across the portal. It could have been a Nether portal, were it not for the fact that those generally didn’t glow a sickly green, and for the fact that those could not be created in the End. If Jevin was to be believed, that was going to be their way out, but should it be necessary, they should also still have enough rockets and elytra to make the flight back. At least, that’s what he hoped. Doc knew Zed had rolled the rockets with a lot of love but he could still question the amount of it. Quality over quantity was a thing, but he would rather not realise they were a few rockets short while flying over the Void.
“Huh, I didn’t know you could do that,” Zedaph whistled when he saw the portal, coming a little bit closer to look at it from a few angles more.
“I mean, we probably can’t do that. I’ve never come across anything quite like it personally, at least, and I’ve seen quite some strange things. It might be an admin thing, though,” Doc answered matter-of-factly. It was true. Not even some of his older friends, those he had gotten to know even before he had met the Hermits, had managed to create something like the portal in front of him, and those people really tried finding and breaking the limits of the world.
“Could be, yeah. Anyway, I haven’t seen anyone – or anything, really – out here, soooo… Let’s go back to the front, and put on our chestplates?”
Doc simply nodded, letting the others go in front of him. He brought up the rear, keeping an eye on the portal just in case. It was probably not two-way, if it worked the same as the main End portal did, but one could never be too sure.
A little later than the others he arrived at the other side of the building once more. Cleo and Joe had already switched out their elytra for more armour while Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango seemed to be struggling with a few of the buckles and straps on Keralis’ chestplate.
“I’m telling you, that there thing is twisted! It’s poking between my ribs when I breathe, please fix it.”
“I really don’t see it, buddy, but does this help?” Impulse pulled on one of the straps a little bit, and Keralis yelped.
“No, no, no, that’s the wrong one! Look into my eyes, and nothing but my eyes, Impulse, you’re on the wrong side!”
“Soooooooo… This one, then?” Tango asked, pulling at a different buckle, much to the same result.
The cyborg simply rolled his eye before going to switch out his own armour too. It was an important moment, because it meant that it would cost them a few precious seconds more to escape to the air should it be necessary. Still, given that they weren’t entirely sure what they could expect inside… Well. The extra bit of protection the chestplates gave were worth those few seconds. After all, they couldn’t escape if they were dead. It’s why he made sure to put on his chestplate correctly, allowing enough movement in order to properly fight, but not enough for it to slide down or otherwise impede him. Meanwhile, his eyes kept gliding over the group every now and then, just to make sure everyone was still there and safe.
I’m not going to lose anyone else. I’d rather die than let that happen.
A little bit later, he was done, and the same went for Keralis and team ZIT. It seemed that Cleo and Joe had meanwhile been studying the entrance, making note of all the little details on there. Joe, notably, had been staring at a line of symbols that was carved straight above the doors, just underneath the entablature. They were symbols Doc recognised as the same runes that were used in enchanting, but besides that he had some trouble reading them. Almost as though it translated to something that wasn’t in fact an enchantment.
Lᔑᓭᓵ╎ᔑℸ ̣ ᒷ 𝙹⊣リᒷ ᓭ!¡ᒷ∷ᔑリ⨅ᔑ ⍊𝙹╎ ᓵ⍑ ╎リℸ ̣ ∷ᔑℸ ̣ ᒷ
“Joe, you know languages, right? What does it say?” Doc asked, switching his focus between the runes and the poet.
“Well, it’s funny you ask. I don’t know how to complete this translation task. All I can say is that the dialect used is old, but whatever besides that it could hold…” He shrugged. “You shouldn’t ask me, ‘cause I have no idea.”
“I see.”
Hmm… If Joe can’t translate it, I doubt anyone else here can. Especially if he says it’s old. If only we got Xisuma here…
“Well, note it down so you can study it back in the bunker, and then get ready to go in. The longer we’re out here just standing around, the longer that bastard has to notice us and to prepare.” His tone was perhaps a little bit harsher than it needed to be, a little bit more rushed, but Doc just really needed this party to get started. Who knew what that spider was doing to their friends right at that moment? The sooner they got them out, the better.
“Gotcha, Doc. We got most of it down already, just the last few left now, I think, isn’t it, Joe?” Cleo said, looking over the poet’s little booklet. She didn’t get a verbal response, but he nodded, quickly jotting down the last dots and squiggly lines. Then he gently blew over the page to make the ink dry a little bit faster, before putting both the book and his quill away.
“Alright everyone, grab your weapons. It’s time. That spider dies today.”
His hand tightened around his trident while an icy grin spread on his lips. Around him, the raid party unsheathed their swords and bows, some clutching a shield in one hand while others simply went for the zweihander approach. His eyes danced around all of them as he moved on to the door, his hand laying on the doorknob. One last time, he looked around.
Then he opened the door, slowly at first, but faster when it seemed like there was no one behind it. The entrance hall was decorated with dark green carpets and black draperies, the latter embroidered with imagery of cobwebs and spiders in a bright green. He could have considered them beautiful, were it not for the prior experiences he had had with that imagery. Dark beams of wood held up the roof, and in the middle was a railing where a staircase descended into the island. As he looked down, he could see the stone alongside the walls go from meticulously stacked pieces to roughly hewn rock, as well as another change.
The further down the stairs, the more cobwebs he could see, and this time not of the embroidered kind. It reminded Doc of the cave, a day earlier, and he had to shove some unwanted memories to the side.
This is not going to be like that. This time, they don’t have Biffa. This time, we’re with more.
His eyes went back up, around the room and the rafters, just to make absolutely sure that there were no spiders hiding up there, waiting to attack them from behind. Then he stepped in, motioning for the others to follow. He heard Keralis scoff as he entered, and the cyborg turned to look at him.
“What? Am I supposed to pretend that this is beautiful interior decorating? Because it isn’t. There’s so many ways to improve this.”
Doc almost swore he could see the gears in his head already turning, with ideas on how to make this place better flowing freely as he looked around with wide eyes.
“Please stay focussed.”
“Oh, right, yes. Thanks, Doc,” he smiled, returning his gaze to the staircase.
The cyborg took point once more, adrenaline already starting to get into his system. Much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was looking forwards to this. It was probably because he really wanted to make that bastard suffer, which he considered a good thing, but on the other side, he couldn’t have anything like that clouding his vision. Not after last time. They had lost Wels because he felt the need to taunt their enemy, and he was not going to repeat that same mistake.
And so he started moving down the stairs, his trident grasped tightly in both his hands, ready to stab the first arachnid that was dumb enough to come within his reach. His footsteps echoed only a little in the hallway, thanks to the cobwebs on the wall soaking up most of the sound, and his eyes danced around, wary for the end of the staircase. He could already see it, as well as the first bit of floor beyond it, but the ceiling didn’t open up enough for him to look into the hallway itself just yet.
A step down. Another. Another. Then, at the first moment he could actually look in, he froze for a second.
Instead of it being empty, as he had perhaps expected, eyes were staring back at him.
Many eyes.
Green eyes.
Not red ones, though. Not pairs of two eyes either.
Much like in the cave, an army of spiders was looking right at him, as though they had been waiting for him. Or well, not for him specifically, for anyone basically. They were waiting on the floor and on the walls and even on the ceiling, sitting still and staring until they suddenly weren’t. All of a sudden, the spiders were moving towards them, like a torrential wave rushing onto a beach.
For the briefest of moments, Doc considered running straight at them, but instead he simply dug his feet in the ground.
“Formation!” he shouted out loud. It didn’t matter anyway, they had been spotted now, they could let go of all pretence of stealth. He saw Zedaph and Keralis coming up next to him, their shields raised, while Impulse and Tango went to stand at the ends of the line, their swords gleaming in their hands. While the cyborg couldn’t see it, he knew Cleo and Joe would be behind him with arrows trained on their enemies, but he also knew that if they were to stand any kind of chance of winning this, they needed to get a better position. Fighting on a staircase was simply asking for trouble, and he had no doubt this fight was going to be difficult enough as it was.
And then the spiders reached them, jumping up to claw and bite at whatever bits of the raid party they could. Doc immediately reacted and started stabbing, as did the others forming their meagre excuse for a shield wall. Spiders started dropping around them, their legs still twitching as they fell onto the ground before they stopped moving.
Yet still, they kept coming. There were simply more of them. More and more, ever more of them, as though there was simply no end. And perhaps there wasn’t.
The only thing they could do was to simply keep hacking and slashing at them, and to slowly advance forwards, deeper into the lair until they got where they needed to be.
And if many spiders needed to die for that… Well. Then so be it.
Notes:
I'm pretty sure y'all can figure out what the standard galactic means. It's from Dante, because I'm a nerd like that :D
Chapter 83: Arc 3 - 7
Summary:
To run or to stay, to stay or to run.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It was strange, not being on the mission. False found herself aimlessly wandering through the various hallways, unable to sit still. A restless energy hung in the air, and while she knew she wasn’t the only one wandering around, she hadn’t actually seen anyone else in a while. Of course, she knew where a few of them were, she just hadn’t actually been in those places.
Perhaps it was to just evade their eyes for a bit. The fighter had the feeling that each of them looked at her with the same kind of question in their heads, even while they full well knew the answer.
Why was she still here? Why hadn’t she joined the raid party?
Because I chose for it. Because I chose myself over others. No, wait, that’s not true. I chose this in order to not be a liability, to protect others and to give the raid party the biggest chance to win.
False noticed her breathing had gone a little bit shaky and stood still to steady it out again. For the first time in a while, she actually looked around, just to see where she was. Her breathing immediately went shaky again as she realised what hallway she was in. She recognised the metal doors and the iron bars before windows. Keys stuck out of one of the doors, and light came washing through the windows of the cell.
False knew what was in there, who was still waiting in there, and her gut was already telling her to run away, even though she knew what Joe had said. Logically, she knew Biffa was no longer hostile, but at the same time… She simply did not want to see him right now. Not because she didn’t want to talk to a friend, but because she did not particularly feel like hyperventilating again.
She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing out as slow as she could to force her body to relax a little bit. Then she turned around where she stood, and walked away as slowly as she could muster.
I’m not running away. I’m just taking care of myself. I’ll get over this in due time, just not right now. Not while everything is still weird.
The moment she turned the corner, towards the staircase, she felt herself become a whole lot calmer. It was strange, really, but somewhere she was glad that her brain had apparently decided on an out of sight, out of mind kind of policy. False walked to the ladder, taking a moment before deciding to go back to some of the higher levels of the bunker. Perhaps seeing some other people wouldn’t even be too bad.
For the briefest of moments, he thought his sensors picked up someone moving around outside of his cell. The robot tilted his head to listen better, and there were indeed the soft sounds of armour shifting around, as well as breathing in the otherwise empty hall. The breaths didn’t seem to be coming closer, though.
Was it Xisuma? Had he finally decided to come and pay a visit to one of his oldest friends? He knew Joe had mentioned something about a raid just before leaving, but Biffa had cut him of before he could say too much. Despite how curious he was, he needed to make sure he was totally himself again before he wanted to know anything that could endanger his friends.
Still, he had sat there alone ever since Joe had left, with no one having come to check on him yet. Sure, he knew that they all had to be incredibly busy with solving their current situation, but it hurt nonetheless.
He closed his eyes and rerouted some extra power to his audio sensors. The breathing outside slowed down, before he once more heard the clanking of armour followed by footsteps.
Footsteps going away from him.
Biffa sighed. Not a visitor for him, then.
Of course not. You are not a part of them, you belong with others.
He blinked, not even having noticed at first why he was thinking that. When he did, though, he immediately opened his eyes, looking around. That wasn’t him. That thought did not come from him. The firewall. Had it broken the firewall? It had to be, right?
You cannot stop your true calling. Sooner or later, you will come crawling back.
The robot shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts.
“I won’t. Shut up and crawl back to where you came from, I’m done listening to you.” He kept his teeth firmly clenched together as he spoke, mentally shoving back the influence of the spider once more. If one firewall between him and it wouldn’t do, he would simply build more of them. More and more, ever more, until it could no longer reach him. Until he was safe and completely himself again.
The moment he had the idea he had driven the influence far enough away from his central processing unit, Biffa immediately set up barriers, the strongest he could muster. He was not going to let it win, not again. Not now that he knew what would happen if he were to let go. Not now that he knew that he had friends that worried for him. Not now that he had some hope they could win against Arachne.
He would be strong, for his friends but most of all for himself. And he was going to find a way to beat this influence, once and for all.
Biffa balled his hand into a fist, his eyes filling with determination. If his friends were going on a raid, he would have to fight his own battle, and it was not one he was planning on losing.
The upper levels of the bunker were just as deserted as the lower levels had been. The hallways were quiet, almost too quiet perhaps, but that could also be because quite a large part of the people that were usually there now weren’t. It didn’t help that a few of the raiders were generally the loudest people in the room.
False sighed. She could only hope that the raiders would return soon, and that they would return successfully. There was simply no way for her to influence things from here, not at this stage. And so she wandered, just wanting to find a place where she could get rid of some of her excess energy.
There has to be some kind of exercise room in here somewhere. TFC would build one of those, right?
Still, no matter where she wandered, no matter what doorway she poked her head through, she simply couldn’t find it nor the keeper of the vault itself. It was a shame, but in the worst case she could always find a set of stairs and just run up and down those a bunch of times. That would undoubtedly work too.
The fighter was just about to actually go and do just that when she heard something she should not be hearing. Or well, something she did not expect to be hearing, not after not having seen any of the other Hermits for a while.
Footsteps, two pairs of them, slightly muffled by the wooshing of the Nether portal that was just around the corner. False squinted, unsure what to expect. It wasn’t entirely the footsteps that made her gut feel strange, though. It was actually the absence of something else.
Voices.
No matter what was going on, she had never quite heard hermits shut up when they were together, and when they did, something was generally really wrong. Her hand almost instantly went to her hip from which her sword dangled, ready for action. She just really hoped it wasn’t necessary.
The soft growling that seemed to be coming closer as the footsteps did didn’t do a lot to soothe her nerves, though. False only knew one person that would growl, and even then… it was day, wasn’t it?
Ren…? No, that can’t be, that’s ridiculous.
Nevertheless, the fighter was on edge, almost automatically slipping into combat mode. It could just be her imagination, it could just be her friends, but it could well be enemies. How they had gotten in, she wasn’t sure of, but… Well. The Nether portal was right there.
She peeked around the corner, looking into the hallway, and her stomach dropped when she saw what was there.
Or rather, who were there.
As fast and silently as she could, she ducked back behind the corner, and then a little bit further just for good measure. There she halted, grabbing her communicator, and just opening the group chat. Spider or no spider, mole or no mole, this was something everyone in the bunker needed to know, and they needed to know it fast. False was not going to bother with sending everyone the exact same private message, not in this situation.
<FalseSymmetry> guys, we got a problem
<FalseSymmetry> capital p
<TinFoilChef> What’s happening, False?
<FalseSymmetry> ren and iskall
<FalseSymmetry> theyre here
<FalseSymmetry> near the portal
<FalseSymmetry> i dont think theyre friendly, theres green all over them
<FalseSymmetry> i need backup!
With that, she put her communicator away again, and not a moment too early. The footsteps seemed to halt momentarily, and she could hear someone sniffing the air. Time seemed to pass by incredibly slowly as she pressed herself against the wall, to stay out of sight just a little bit longer, but the question was if that was even going to help her. She knew she was going to be discovered the moment they would come around the corner, and that was simply inevitable. The hallway to the portal had no other exits, after all.
Her knuckles whitened as she tightened her grip on her sword, ready for action, but hoping, just hoping that she didn’t have to. False didn’t want to fight her friends, she really didn’t, but it might well be that she had no choice in the matter.
She heard and felt her communicator buzz a few times, and she swallowed. The buzz was not necessarily a quiet thing, and if she could hear it, she didn’t doubt that people just a few meters away could do so too.
And indeed, she could hear a chuckle coming from there, one she knew, but one that was very wrong.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” came Iskall’s voice, although it didn’t quite sound like him at the same time. It was too singsongy, too… Cruel, no, harsh. It wasn’t Iskall, not really.
In response, she breathed in and out, switching into a fighting stance.
And then they rounded the corner, both with the same glowing green eyes, the same pale skin, and the same green veins. Both with the same kind of jagged weaponry, with the same strange armour, glinting a venomous green. Both with the same look on their faces, one that spelled murder for everyone they could get their hands on.
“There you are.”
Notes:
another chapter? a day after the last one? it's more likely than you'd think!
Chapter 84: Arc 3 - 8
Summary:
Words, swords, and friends clash.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Try again,” he said, his voice filled with disdain. ‘Grian’ was not his name, and it would never be. Then again, how much did he really care about this little fly getting it right? Soon there would be no need for names anyway. Soon the only name that mattered would be Arachne.
Sally stepped forwards, hand outstretched and open, ready to receive the communicator he had been sent to retrieve. Much to his annoyance, though, the other person simply stepped backwards, his hands between them as though that was going to help.
“Grian, but- What… You… What did they do to you? I thought… The book said…” his target said, stumbling over his words as he tried and failed to get a complete sentence out there. No sign of him doing what was asked of him, though.
The little spider stared at him, unblinking, and set another step forward.
“Is listening really that difficult for you? My name. Is not. Grian. Now hand over the communicator, mole.” He watched as various emotions crossed over the face of the one before him. Confusion. Frustration. Anger. Fear. Sadness. They all passed by quickly, before settling firmly on betrayal. The mole took another step backwards, more hesitantly this time.
“I… I-I can’t do that. Grian, please, come to your senses! This… This is daft! This isn’t you, bro, please! You have to see, that, don’t you?” His voice had a shaky quality to it, and Sally couldn’t help but scoff while deep inside him, something stirred. Or well, someone, rather than something, but that difference was negligible. As though this was going to change things. As though this was going to allow that pathetic other version of him to be back in control.
Still, the mole did not seem to be planning on cooperating, which was a shame. This could have been so simple, and yet… It seemed like the mole simply didn’t see how he could be part of something larger than himself, something that would change the world for the better. Oh well. That simply meant it was time for a different tactic.
“Your friend Grian no longer exists. He’s dead.”
I’m not dead! I’m here, I’m still here!
With an annoyed grunt Sally pushed away the thoughts, while the mole went about as white as his shirt. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, slowly dropping his hands as he seemingly tried to process what had just been said.
“But… I-I did my tasks. They said- They said they wouldn’t hurt you if… You… This… This has to be a joke,” he nervously chuckled, “this is a joke, right? You’re- you’re just pulling my leg here. Has to be. Right, Grian…? Right?”
Instead of answering, he just stared at the other man until every last bit of hope in his eyes shattered, his voice breaking as he rambled on.
“No. No, no, no, this… This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening, I- Grian, please, this… This isn’t funny. Just… Just stop it. Please, I… I can’t do this, man. I did what I was asked. I did everything I was asked, please, please tell me you’re acting.”
Sally was quite sure he could pinpoint the exact moment the last remains of hope turned into desperation, and he was quite sure that other version of him did too.
No! No, Mumbo, I’m still here, I’m still here, he’s lying! He’s lying, he’s lying, he’s lying! Let me out, please, help me, let me out, free me! I’m still here!
“Just give up already, it’s no use.” Sally wasn’t quite sure for who of the two pathetic fools his words were meant, but it seemed to shut up both of them. For a short moment, at the very least. Then the mole stifled a sob, walking even further backwards until his back touched the wall. His eyes widened, and Sally could hear him swallow over the gentle sounds of the waves. The grief and sadness in his eyes made way for something else, something like determination. For a moment it seemed as though his eyes unfocussed, and then a sword materialised on his hip.
Yes! Fight him, you got this Mumbo!
With more annoyance than before, Sally shoved back that other version of him, as deep into his mind as he could. If this were going to be a fight, he would not be distracted.
And indeed, the mole pulled out his blade, taking on a fighting stance as well as he could. The tip of the sword moved around wildly as the length of the blade amplified the shaking of his hands, and Sally rolled his eyes. Then he readied his own blade. If this was going to be how this went, he was ready. Besides, there was no doubt in his mind that this would have turned into violence at some point or another regardless of what he had done or said, so he had more or less been waiting for this moment.
“I… I won’t stand for this. No. My word, I will not stand for this.” The mole gritted his teeth, then seemed to realise his back was already against the wall before the fighting had even begun, and dove forwards, straight at the little fly. Sally deflected the blow with ease, barely even needing to sidestep but doing it anyway, in order to get a better position.
As the mole rushed past him, he lashed out with his own sword, scraping over the diamond tassets . Sadly, Sally had his orders, and as such would need to aim to incapacitate instead of to kill, but he had a feeling that it wouldn’t matter much. The mole was fighting based on emotion instead of logical thought, and an emotional fighter was a sloppy fighter. And sloppy fighters… Well. Those generally didn’t last long.
By the time the other man tried to hit him again, Sally was more than ready, and their blades met in mid-air, sparks flying with the force of the collision. The little fly moved his sword around, sliding it down towards the hilt of the other sword, and then stepped closer. All the while, his face stayed just about as neutral as he could get it.
The mole grunted, trying and failing to get his blade back into a position from which he could try again, and Sally took the moment to kick him square in the chest. About that was also the moment he really noticed that his adversary was not in fact wearing a chestplate. Instead, he could see the various straps of an elytra. While it meant that the mole had fewer defensive capabilities, it also meant that if necessary, he could take the fight to the sky. While it was not something that was going to form all to big of a problem, it was still good to be aware of it, just in case.
As his opponent stumbled backwards in order to stay balanced, he wasted no time with continuing the assault. Blows rained down in quick succession, and he drove the mole further and further back as he tried to evade and block what he could. Still, there were also moments where Sally had the pleasure of feeling soft cloth and skin under his blade instead of hard armour and sword, and judging by the yelps and grunts of the mole, those blows hurt.
And how could they not? His blade was jagged, ripping open the flesh along each cut, and the green sheen on it was not just an enchantment glint. Little bits stayed behind with each hit, and in those places where it came in contact with blood… Well. Sally was long glad that was not something he himself had to experience.
Still, it didn’t bring the mole so far to make the wise decision to just surrender. Instead, it seemed like each scratch, each blow that passed his defences simply made him more determined and angrier. It certainly helped the little spider, though, given that basically all his pathetic attempts at attacking were now preceded with him yelling this thing or that. It made it even easier to see through him, and Sally made gratuitous use of that.
He intensified his own fight, dancing from one side to the other as he tried to hit him in his unprotected flanks. His side of the combat was elegant and efficient, although he also wasn’t above fighting dirty every now and then, using kicks and other tricks to try and trip the mole, or to position himself in such a way that the sun was straight behind him. As it dragged on, though, the other man seemed to slowly but surely catch on to what was going on. He grunted something Sally couldn’t quite make sense of, and then, for the first time, his diamond blade actually managed to slip past his defences.
The gash was white-hot on his cheek, and Sally felt blood slowly starting to trickle down. He squinted at the other, that showed no sign of stopping. This time, though, the little spider caught the blade with his own before it could reach him again, and he turned underneath it, kicking backwards into the other man before pushing the sword to the side once more.
He didn’t like it that he was bleeding, not in the slightest, but he seemed to be in the minority in thinking that. The sight of blood seemed to have only spurred the mole on to keep trying, and that pesky other version of him had picked that moment to come back to the surface too. Of course he did.
Yes! Go, go, go! Beat him up, Mumbo! You got this!
Sally didn’t even bother wasting energy with shoving the thoughts to the side. He knew there was a better way to get rid of them for a while, and that would be to simply crush whatever hope that little fly still had of taking back control. The little spider wouldn’t let him, though. Not in the slightest. A sadistic grin appeared on his lips as he blocked another few of the pathetic attempts of the mole, before smoothly going into a true barrage of hits and slashes, one after the other, each a little bit closer, driving his opponent back step by step by step.
The mole could do nothing but block and dodge and evade, but it wasn’t enough, and more and more rips and tears appeared in his suit jacket. And each time Sally drew blood, he could hear yelps and curses and attempts to distract him with words, both from inside of his head and out. He paid as little attention to it as he could, though, and kept going. He knew the poison had to kick in sooner rather than later, and if his eyes didn’t deceive him, his opponent was already moving a little bit slower, a little bit stiffer than he had when this scuffle had begun. It could simply be his various wounds, true, but Sally mostly hoped it was the beginning of the end for the other man.
Meanwhile, it looked as though the mole was trying very hard to not get driven back against a wall. He very much attempted to move more diagonally than straight backwards, which more or less worked, and whenever he felt like he had a short moment, he dared to look behind him, adjusting his course whenever he did. That being said, with every second that passed it seemed like his face was more and more serious, more and more scared, realising he couldn’t keep this up forever.
And Sally could see that in his eyes, that fleeting hope of getting out of there in one piece. Still, there was still that little spark, that little something that that other version of him was calling out to almost non-stop.
Sally planned on totally destroying that spark. He adjusted his tactics slightly, and started pushing backwards harder. Any time the mole tried to step a little bit sidewards, he stepped in and drove him back, swords and armour clanging fast until he saw his chance.
Their blades clashed into each other, and the little spider immediately pushed his to the side, up and over the other one, though never losing contact. Then he caught his opponent’s blade between his rerebrace and his chestplate, quickly finishing the motion and turning to the side, ripping the blade from his opponent’s hands. It clattered to the ground and he kicked it away.
Then, without waiting, he rushed forwards, grabbing the mole by the shoulder, blade on his neck, and ramming him with his back into the wall. His blade pressed into the flesh, but didn’t quite break skin yet, although that could change any moment.
This up-close Sally could see the thin layer of sweat coating the other man, and he could hear his ragged breathing. At the very least he seemed to understand that struggling was probably not the best idea in his current position.
There was also someone that seemed to not get the hint. That pesky little fly was screaming and yelling at him to let go of his friend, mixed with some choice swears, and for the first time in a day he actually felt the power behind those words grow a little. Still, he had no time for this. He had to crush that hope, crush that fly, sooner rather than later. Sally pushed the thoughts to the side as much as he could and once more focussed on getting his task done.
“The communicator. Now,” Sally hissed, and the mole swallowed before weakly nodding. His hand went into his suit jacket, patting around a pocket on the inside for a while before holding out a small device. A name was carved into it, but the moment he read it, it seemed like everything happened all at once.
Before he knew it, he had been shoved to the side, his place behind the metaphorical wheel taking in by that other version of him. He heard his blade clatter to the ground and felt the grip he had had on the suit fall away, and he saw the shocked reaction of the mole. All the while, he was fighting for his rightful place back, and he felt himself clashing with the thoughts of that other him. He was clawing at it, trying to rip it apart and away, but the little fly was hanging on by sheer willpower alone.
“Mumbo… Run…”
“But you-“
“RUN!”
The words that left his mouth were not his, and he could hear and feel the strain behind it as he tried very hard to not let any more sounds flow free. Sally poured all his determination into regaining control once more, not in the slightest feeling like failing his one task right there and then.
And it worked, a few seconds later.
A few seconds too late, perhaps, as it had given the mole a short moment to get away. Long enough to get a rocket. Long enough to jump into the air.
Yes! Good work, Mumbo! Flee! Let the others know what’s going on, you got this!
“Shut UP!” Sally growled, harshly pushing the little fly into a mental corner again as he picked up his blade. Then he jumped into the air, flapping his wings hard to catch up to the mole. He was almost at the white railway in the water already, but it was most definitely a distance he could make up if he simply flew fast enough.
His thoughts were focussed on one thing and one thing only now, so much so that he barely even noticed when the elytra of the man he was chasing started to falter. Sally did notice it, however, when he started actually falling from the sky, and a grin spread on his face. This was good. This was very good. He dove after him, making use of gravity to speed up even further. The mole crashed into the water not a second before Sally could actually reach him, but that was fine. The little spider simply readjusted his course slightly, diving in and pulling him up and out.
No! Let him go, let him go! He doesn’t deserve this!
The mole only offered token resistance, and Sally could see how his skin had gone ashen, his pupils seemingly randomly dilating and contracting. The man seemed to be in pain, too, and Sally could tell exactly why. The edges of his various wounds had gone a sickening green, and the veins leading away from them were that same colour as well. Ah, the joys of poison.
Sally flew higher into the air before checking whether the mole still had the Worldshaper’s communicator. It was still in his hand, fingers firmly clasped around it, and that was good enough for now. He turned around in the air and flew back to the globe. Sally landed where he had first seen the mole fiddling around with his redstone, and took the lever from the ground. It had to be the key to something, but he wasn’t sure to what. A door? A secret pathway? Some machine?
His thought process was interrupted by a weak voice, coming from the man in his arms.
“What… did you- do… to me…?” he asked, taking his time for every word.
“Nothing my master wouldn’t do ten times worse if you don’t cooperate. What is the lever for?”
The mole blinked at him for a moment before pressing his eyes shut and groaning in pain.
“Door…” He made a gesture with his hand that could either be him having a spasm or briefly pointing towards a specific formation of rock, but Sally believed it was the latter. He walked over, not caring at all for how much it shook the mole, nor for how the jagged edges of his armour poked into his sides. At the rock formation, he carefully stuck the lever against the wall before pulling on it, and almost immediately a piston retracted, showing a slightly darker room with a book inside it. A book, and many, many cobwebs filled with spiders, all looking his way.
Sally grinned.
“Tell my master I’ve retrieved my targets. To where do I bring them?”
Notes:
this chapter is slightly longer than the previous few and thats totally by accident. whoops.
Chapter 85: Arc 3 - 9
Summary:
Infiltration. They fight as one.
Notes:
uuuhhhh TW for spiders, as well as graphic descriptions of violence (mostly against said spiders), both spread out over the first half of the chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Bit by bit, he stepped forwards, spiders falling dead and dying at his feet. The progress was slow but steady, and it only took them a few minutes to actually reach the bottom of the staircase. It allowed them some fancier footwork, something Tango made gratuitous use of. After all, it was a whole lot easier to swing a sword with some power if he didn’t also at the same time need to make sure he wouldn’t launch himself down the stairs with each motion.
And so, he widened his stance, one foot before the other as he slashed at the arachnids crawling within his reach. His blade slashed through them, searing shut the wounds as he went, and at the same time setting the hair on their bodies and legs on fire. It didn’t take long in the slightest for the hallway to start smelling really bad, but Tango at that point welcomed the scent of burning spider with an almost sadistic joy.
They can all die in a fire for all I care, and I’m more than happy to help them burnificate.
Their raid party’s progress went a little bit quicker now that they had flat ground to stand on, but whether that was solely because of that was a question still to be answered. The demon had the feeling that the wave of spiders was slowly but surely thinning out, the floor coated in the viscera of more and more of their fallen brethren. Besides, how many spiders could there be in a single evil lair? They had to be an end to them at some point, hadn’t there? Still, it didn’t seem like they had reached the end just yet.
As they moved forwards, a few doors came in sight. A few of them were closed, but the largest one of all was wide open, the dark wood almost blending into the walls around them. There was something strange about it, and Tango stole looks at it whenever he felt a lull in the combat. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was, though, the dark stone looked just like-
Wait a second. Where’s the webs?
He blinked as he made the realisation. Literally all other walls were coated in the damn things, except for the area around the doors. It also looked as though the spiders were actually moving in a circle around the entrance, as though they physically couldn’t go near it. Or maybe they just really didn’t want to. That idea confused him more than it perhaps should. What could be in there, that the spiders didn’t dare come close? Some big and evil thing? A forcefield? He could barely imagine the latter one, though, given that the few times he had seen a world border, the mobs around didn’t even seem to notice them, passing right through. It had to be something else, then. But what?
“Tango, watch out!” he heard Keralis yelling next to him, pulling him out of his train of thoughts just a second too late. A spider rushed past his defences, and before he knew it, it was clinging to his torso, its legs somehow finding purchase on his chestplate. The demon stumbled backwards with the sudden impact, trying to get the spider away from him. Its mandibles were way too close for comfort, especially when it started getting even closer, trying to find a little bit of unprotected skin to bite. Tango was reluctant to have his hands too close to its face, but he would settle for pushing hard against its abdomen, willing small flames forth to engulf his hand.
The effect was immediate enough, with the spider hissing with pain, but stubbornly refused to let go. Instead, it found a bit of inner elbow to sink its mandibles into, and Tango yelped, jerking his arm back and away from it. Perhaps not the best idea, judging by the tearing feeling in his skin, but he refused to have his flesh serve as spider food. He grunted through the pain, channelling it into the small amount of flames around his hand.
I’ll show that spider who’s boss.
Still, it took longer than he wanted before the spider actually went limp, and some more pushing and shoving even then before Tango could get its corpse to let go and fall to the ground. Time in which he knew Keralis was desperately trying to fight off not only his own spiders, but also those trying to make use of the breach in their little line to get behind it. Arrows whizzed past him as he laid his hand on his wound, and he hissed as the flames licked over his skin. It wouldn’t do a lot, he knew that, but at the very least he could stop some of the bleeding.
A few seconds later, he properly grabbed the hilt of his sword once more, ignoring the throbbing feeling in his arm for now. He would deal with that in a little bit, when they had beat down this wave. Tango stepped forwards again and continued sending arachnids straight to hell as efficiently as he could.
That being said, it sounded like he wasn’t the only one experiencing some minor hiccups during the fight. On the other side of the line, he could hear Zedaph cry out, followed just seconds later by a growl from Impulse, as well as a few calls to watch out coming from Cleo and Joe, to which Doc danced to the side as a larger spider rushed towards him, skittering over the backs of its fellow arachnids in order to go even faster.
It was carnage, but so far, it seemed like the line managed to actually hold and push forwards, their armoured feet crunching through exoskeletons as they moved onwards. And then the open door was in reach, and it became really apparent just how little the spiders wanted to get close to it. Once he got decently close, the spiders simply stopped attacking him while he was in front of the doors, which most definitely was strange to say the least.
“Guys, look at this! I don’t think they can enter here; can we somehow use that?” he yelled out, pointing his sword towards the door.
“Didn’t Jevin say that there’s a throne room around here?” Doc called back, not even halting his attempt to imitate a meat grinder in human form. Tango tried to remember the exact thing the slime man had said, and although he was vaguely sure of hearing something like that being mentioned, he wasn’t entirely certain about the wording or the location.
“Might be? I’m gonna take a look, watch my back.”
Before anyone could protest or stop him, the demon stepped diagonally forwards, closer to the open doors. The spiders hissed at him but didn’t seem to be able to actually reach him, which seemed to be a good thing. It allowed him to actually partially turn his back towards them, knowing that it was at the very least some kind of safe.
Looking into the room, he could see why Jevin would have called it a throne room. The room was large, with a high ceiling, and all the way in the back, there was one enormous web spanning most of the back wall and a bit of the floor in front of it. If there was any place where he expected that spidery bastard to be, it would be right in the middle of that web, he had no doubt about that.
The main issue right there and then was the fact that the web was as empty as it could be. Tango wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. After all, if they weren’t here, where were they?
His gaze drifted upwards unwillingly, to see if Arachne was perhaps on the ceiling, ready to drop down behind him.
Also nothing.
An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach as he turned around again, towards the others.
“They’re not in there and I don’t like it one bit,” he said, his voice partially drowned out by the sounds of battle. The shield wall had meanwhile moved up a little bit, although not completely past the doors yet.
“I guess we could use that room as some kind of checkpoint then, can’t we?” Keralis responded.
“Possibly, although, if we’re this close to the exit… Unless something weird happens, I don’t think it’s something we can really use.” The demon threw another glance over at the throne of webs. “That being said… Give me one moment.”
Keralis called something after him, but he was running into the room, already conjuring up small flames in his hands. If the spider wasn’t there anyway… Well. He might as well destroy something that symbolised their power and might.
And cobwebs happened to burn really well.
Did he get a little bit too much joy out of setting the whole thing on fire? Perhaps so. Then again, after everything that had happened so far, it was the least he could do, really.
Tango watched his handywork for a few seconds,
making sure the fire caught in the spider’s web, before nodding to himself and jogging back to the shield wall. As he went, he grabbed his sword again, ready to literally jump into the fray once more. The demon found his place next to the wide-eyed man, and quickly got to chopping and slashing at spiders once more.
Judging by the occasional breathing pauses he now got, it seemed like there most definitely were less spiders swarming at them now. Almost as though their adversary had underestimated the Hermits while planning out their defences. Or perhaps they simply refused to believe they could be beaten. He low-key hoped for the latter, because that was a stupid amount of hubris for someone going up against basically all of Hermitkind, and hubris generally came just before the fall.
That would be the best outcome for this. Then again, things could also still very much go the other way. Perhaps it wasn’t an oversight. Perhaps it was a trap, to lull them into a false sense of security before striking harder when they least expected it.
Tango scrunched up his nose, trying to work the thought from his head. He frankly didn’t want to think about it like that. He just wanted things to go right for once. They had earned that, hadn’t they?
The torrent of spiders slowed down to a stream and then a trickle, and suddenly the raid party was making progress a whole lot faster. Instead of the mess of still-twitching legs and spider viscera, the ground seemed clean save for some bright white-ish blue speckles of something here and there, and what few spiders were still there were small, barely even worthy of being called a threat. They squished easily under the raid party’s armoured feet, gone before they could even hiss.
From there on, they went methodically through the hallways, clearing each doorway before proceeding past it. Most of them turned out to lead to storage spaces, but not all of them did.
One such example that didn’t caused Tango quite the scare. He had initially only briefly glanced in as he reached the open doorway, and had almost jumped backwards when he saw the shape of a large spider-like creature sitting in the centre of the room. It almost seemed to move in the flickering candlelight, and Tango raised his sword to go and attack it.
“Guys, over here,” he let out, almost whispering. Despite the head of the creature being turned towards the door, it didn’t seem like they were getting ready to attack, though, which was strange to say the least. He squinted, looking the thing over once more before blinking and realising what he was looking at. The colours were simply to even for this to be any kind of actual living creature.
“Okay, it’s okay, never mind, I’m being dumb! It’s a statue. Just a statue. Nothing more.” His voice was a little bit louder now, and Impulse turned towards him.
“A statue?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said, a statue! A statue of their ugly face!” Despite knowing that it was just stone, and not flesh and blood, Tango still found himself looking over his shoulder, as though the statue would somehow respond to his words. It didn’t, of course, and he felt only a little bit dumb because of it, but still. Better to be safe than sorry.
He quickly dipped into the room, looking around to ensure nothing was hiding there, before going out again. Joe, meanwhile, had moved up a little, and was peeking around the corner too while Cleo had her crossbow aimed at the hallway they had just come from, just in case.
“Huh, classy,” was the only response the poet had to the small room, before he shrugged and walked on, arrow still nocked and ready to be fired.
Tango shrugged too, turning on his heels and jogging to catch up to the rest of the raid party. Still, a little bit later, he turned to look over his shoulder, just to make really, really sure for himself that the thing wasn’t somehow actually alive anyway.
It was still standing in exactly the same spot, in exactly the same pose, with exactly the same expression. Tango couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but he had the feeling the statue was looking at him.
Just my imagination. It has to be. It’s stone! It can’t even look, so how could it be looking at me?
The raid party walked on, but Tango was unable to shake the uneasy feeling. It didn’t help that they kept uncovering bits of storage, each filled with webs and cocoons of silk of which he really didn’t want to know what was inside of them. The whole place was giving him the creeps.
Then the party rounded another corner. Instead of more empty hallway, though, this one was filled again. Filled with layer upon layer of webs, obscuring the very end of the hallway. Filled with spiders, larger than they had encountered earlier. Larger than regular spiders. Spiders sitting and waiting in almost gleeful anticipation.
And there, in the middle of it all, was another web. Unlike the throne, this one was far from empty. No, in this one was something they all recognised.
A figure clad in a black suit was tied up with spider silk and metal bonds, his eyes and mouth covered by more of the sticky threads until they were totally obscured. His red skin seemed paler than normal, with sickly coloured veins clearly visible basically everywhere. He was shaking, but didn’t even seem to try getting out of where he was. Perhaps he simply couldn’t, or perhaps he didn’t want to, the raid party couldn’t know, but what they did know was the fact that the large spider sitting in the web next to him didn’t seem too keen on just letting him go, judging by how their mandibles rested against his throat, ready to bite at a moment’s notice.
Tango swallowed, looking at Doc, unsure of what to do. This whole situation could go wrong in a split second, and he didn’t want more blood on his hands than he already felt like he had.
The cyborg, however, seemed to have no such qualms.
“Get ready. We’re gonna get him out.”
Notes:
this chapter is longer than originally planned. turns out these characters are completionists that will not rest before having checked out every single room in the dungeon
Chapter 86: Arc 3 - 10
Summary:
In a dance of blades, try not to get disarmed.
Notes:
TW for graphic depictions of violence starting from "Again and again {...}" and lasting for the rest of the chapter. Also, TW for dismemberment. If that's not your jam, stop reading at "It had nothing on the white-hot pain {...}" and just skip to the next chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The cat purred in his lap as he sat, gently petting her back and scratching behind her ears. His body had formed itself perfectly to the chair he was in, in a corner of the video room. His eyes were averted from the various streams, but he just about knew what was going on anyway, judging by the amount of swearing coming away from the admin. Something about camera’s going dark, and no way to get them to turn back on. It was something Jevin should probably kind of pay attention to, but he decided to just not do that. Not now he was finally more or less relaxed again, after the events of the morning and night before.
Still, he did look up when he heard a buzzing coming from Xisuma’s communicator, and Jevin tilted his head in question. He saw the admin’s face scrunch up at the stream of messages that were apparently coming in, which probably meant it wasn’t good news. Jevin wouldn’t know, he didn’t have his anymore, which was both a blessing and a curse. A curse, because it made it a lot harder to stay updated, and a blessing, because it meant he wasn’t continuously reminded of what was going on. Still, because it was at least a little bit useful to stay in the loop on where in the metaphorical hospital the metaphorical horse was, he had decided to just stick around someone that was able to receive messages.
“Something wrong?” he asked, already knowing the answer by how furiously Xisuma resumed typing.
“That’s an understatement.” The images on the screens shifted to show part of the inside of the bunker, with False fighting two people in some kind of armour he didn’t recognise. “False says it’s Ren and Iskall.”
“Ah. Well, shit,” Jevin simply replied, his mind already making a decision before he could overthink it. “I’ll go and help her.”
“Thank you. Please be careful, but if you can… Try and capture them, okay?”
The slime man nodded, already pulling his godarmour chestplate out of his inventory. Never before had he put on armour as quickly as right there and then, and that was saying something. The only thing he generally needed to do was just to make sure the various buckles were closed a little bit tight, and for everything else he could just shift around some of his slime to make sure it fit right. Right now, though, he just slapped on the armour, barely caring about the straps and buckles, and shifting his body parts as he ran. It would just have to do. Despite knowing False’s prowess in battle, he didn’t like the thought of her having to go up against two of the spider’s mind-controlled lackeys.
And so, he found himself running through the hallways, his sword in one hand, a shield in the other, not even bothering with trying to sneak. The sounds of battle were already echoing through the bunker, loud enough to at least mask most of the sound his armour made as it clanked together with every movement he made. It was fine. It was all fine.
It simultaneously took longer than he had expected and shorter than he had hoped to actually get into view of False and the two people fighting her. It looked like she was barely holding them off, being driven backwards with just about every attack against her. Still, she seemed to push back whenever she could, gaining a few steps again. Overall, though, it wasn’t enough to hold her position.
Jevin didn’t allow himself to think twice and charged in before Not Ren and Not Iskall properly noticed him, sword raised and ready to strike. And strike he did, but his blade ricocheted off of Not Iskall’s armour. It wasn’t made out of any material he recognised, but that wasn’t his biggest concern right there and then.
No, his biggest concern was how the eye of the swede fell on him. There was no sense of comradery in that eye, no sense of mercy. It was ice cold, set only to kill. Within a second, a jagged blade was thrust his way, and Jevin only barely managed to dodge out of the way in time. The sword looked mean, and like something that could rip him apart in just a few blows. That being said, he knew his own sword could do much the same if he weren’t wearing armour.
“Sup False,” he said, only briefly glancing to the side where the fighter was exchanging blows with Not Ren. The latter was using both a sword and what looked like claws on his other hand to try to break through False’s defences, but her shield and armour caught the brunt of the attacks. Most of the rest she managed to block with her blade, expertly parrying where at all possible.
“Right now isn’t the time, Jev,” she responded, launching into another attack.
The slime man simply shrugged. In the brief moment where he was distracted, though, Not Iskall took his chance and attempted to slash at him repeatedly. The sword dug into the shield Jevin managed to raise just in time, but the splinters flew through the air despite the unbreaking enchantment etched into the wood.
Again and again, the sword came at him, and he felt the force behind every blow jiggle through his arm, forcing him backwards bit by bit. It was all he could do to not physically slide backwards, and the more blows he caught, the more he felt like it had been a good call to go and help out False. Now that she had only one enemy to focus on, it looked like she had the situation under control a whole lot better, standing her ground despite what Not Ren was throwing at her, and despite the small trickles of blood dripping out of various scratches where her armour hadn’t fully managed to cover her.
“Hey Iskall, can you like… not?” Jevin groaned out after a particularly heavy hit that actually took out a large chunk of his shield. The swede stayed silent, though, only answering by means of a sword straight to the face. It slipped past his defences entirely, and the slime man hissed as he felt it slicing into the tissue that currently formed his cheek.
“Not cool, man!” He attacked back as best as he could, and much to his surprise, he actually managed to get through the swede’s first line of defence this time. Somehow it seemed like Not Iskall misjudged the trajectory of the blade, and instead of instantly being parried, Jevin’s sword caught on the jagged material of the armour.
And then it was stuck. His face formed into a frown as he pulled on his sword, trying to get it back. Not Iskall only grinned before dealing a kick to the slime man’s stomach, the force of which was enough to both propel him backwards even further, but also to make him lose his grip on the hilt. Jevin stumbled and fell backwards, already raising his shield protectively over himself just in case.
The blow he expected, however, didn’t come. It only took him a second to realise, but that was probably a second too long.
Wait, why wouldn’t he go for me? I’m on the ground, what- False!
His brain and the fighter herself both came to the same conclusion at about the same moment, judging by her surprised yelp. Jevin rushed to his feet just in time to see False getting attacked in the back by Not Iskall, the sword still sticking out of his armour.
“Oh no you don’t!” Jevin grunted, before throwing caution to the wind and running straight at the swede. Instead of stopping and attacking, though, he jumped at the last moment, landing on his back and immediately wrapping his arms around Not Iskall, intending to stay just there and be as much as a nuisance as he could. At least, until False managed to get away. The shield still strapped to his left arm definitely was an excellent factor in his favour, blocking part of Not Iskall’s field of view as well as part of his range of motion.
That being said, the position he had found himself in was not a very comfortable one, and that wasn’t helped in the slightest by the sharp edges of the swede’s armour that were poking and piercing straight through the weak spots in his own armour. In some cases, he was even sure they were piercing through his skin, and perhaps for the first time he was annoyed at himself for not taking a few seconds longer to properly tighten the straps and buckles of his armour. There was simply too much space between some of the plates, space he was now painfully aware of.
Jevin was also painfully aware of the small cut on his cheek, that had only started hurting more as time passed. He wanted to say he could write it off as either the amount of adrenaline in his system dropping, or his nerves finally kicking into gear, but he was well aware that neither of those two seemed plausible at that moment.
Before he could worry too much more about it, though, he felt a hand grab at his wrists, trying to pull him loose. It seemed like Not Iskall wasn’t all too amused by him being there, but Jevin was not about to give in to any of that. Instead, he just did his best to tighten his grip and to hang on at all costs.
“Leave her alone! We’re your friends, dammit, not your enemies!” he called out, idly hoping that a familiar voice being this close would snap Iskall out of it as it had with Grian.
And he was only partially wrong, because Not Iskall actually stopped moving for a second.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” the swede said, just about spitting out the words. Then he got to moving again, harsher this time. The grip on Jevin’s wrist tightened further, pulling his arm forwards as Not Iskall raised his sword.
However, the sword wasn’t raised in order to stab backwards at where his face was, or downwards at his legs. No, Jevin soon found out what Not Iskall was planning, and by the time he did, no amount of struggle was enough to actually break free. It only served to push the sharp edges of Not Iskall’s armour further into him, breaking through his skin in various places now.
It had nothing on the white-hot pain that went through his arm, though. That was simply overpowering every other feeling his nerves registered, aside from perhaps the feeling of wanting, no, needing to get out of there. Was he making noise? Probably. Was it screams of pain? Perhaps, he couldn’t say for certain, but it would make sense. Were there various expletives laced through whatever sounds he was creating? Undoubtedly.
The whole situation made him think back to barely half a day earlier, and Jevin found himself desperately trying to reshape his slime around the blade. Something was preventing him from doing so, though, and as he looked on, he could see how the slime that had touched the blade was turning a colour it probably shouldn’t, as though someone had dropped in some kind of dye.
It hurt too much to be just dye, though, and just dye didn’t explain how the slime seemed to shrivel up either.
Still, Jevin tried, and he kept trying hard until the sword fully cut through. Not Iskall didn’t even wait a moment before tossing his hand and his wrist away, the lighter parts indicating earlier injury forming a jagged line just an inch away from the newest discolouration, and the slime man didn’t even know how he would make this heal.
At least he knew he was screaming, now.
Notes:
not gonna lie, this chapter was difficult to write. turns out that having your characters in various states of presence and/or ownership of a communicator makes it a logistical nightmare to write proper fight scenes.
Chapter 87: Arc 3 - 11
Summary:
Find the tool, find the rhythm, and work until it is done.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
His fingers brushed over the edge of the slabs, shaking with exertion. The chain and collar were just in front of him, but they might as well have been on the other side of the room. Wels wasn’t quite able to grab the collar, no matter how far he stretched his arm, no matter how hard his own collar pressed into his throat for every agonizing millimetre he pushed his body forwards.
It all didn’t matter, and in the end he had to take a break, coughing and wheezing as he tried to regain his breath. This course of action didn’t seem like it would work, but Wels refused to acknowledge it. If he did, that would be like throwing away one of the last pieces of hope he had been clinging to.
And the knight knew what happened to those that lost hope. He knew what he would have to do, the moment he didn’t see a way out anymore. Still, Wels stubbornly believed he could make it through this, without being turned into a lackey to some evil power. He simply wouldn’t stand for that.
He sat up, looking over at the other collar. There had to be a way for him to get to it. There simply had to be. It would probably be convoluted and difficult, but there had to be a way to get this task done. The trick, as always, was finding it.
Wels stared at the metal band as though it was going to reveal its deepest secrets to him. The metal, being an inorganic and unalive substance, didn’t in fact do anything quite like that. Instead, it just laid there, and the knight would almost say it was taunting him. Taunting him with how tantalisingly close it was, taunting him with the sheer amount of possibilities he would have once he actually managed to grab hold of it. And yet, he couldn’t. It was out of reach, his arms simply weren’t long enough.
Wait a second.
The knight blinked a few times, looking from the collar to his hands and back. Then he frowned, shifting his gaze to his legs.
Aren’t they… Those should be longer, especially given the fact that I can also use the length of my torso for this. I think I may just be an idiot.
He looked at the situation one last time before turning around on the ground, so that he was sitting with his feet towards Scar’s collar. Then Wels started scootching forwards a little bit at a time, until he felt the chain behind him pull taut. It happened perhaps a little earlier than he would have thought or wanted, given that he had the idea that his head was still further away from the slabs than it had been during his last attempt, but then he realised that that actually made sense. After all, something that went up diagonally didn’t go as far horizontally as something of the same length that only went horizontally, and this situation was not an exception to that rule.
And so, he leaned back on his elbows, scrambling just a little bit further. It wasn’t a lot, but there was some difference nonetheless, and that was enough for him. His feet were touching the slabs, now, while his legs were still bent at the knees, so he reckoned this was going to be fine. It had to be fine, right?
Instead of just going straight into it, though, Wels first looked at the positioning of the collar on the slabs a little bit before even trying to reach out with his foot. After all, it would really not be good if he managed to kick it even further away. If that happened, he could wave goodbye to any plans he might have had that involved that collar.
About half a minute later, Wels actually started what could well be his last opportunity to get his hands on a tool of sorts. He very carefully stuck out his foot, warily keeping it as far away from the collar as he could until he was sure he would be able to properly hook his toes behind it.
Well, here’s to hoping.
The knight went on to lower his foot until he could feel and see his toes touching the very edge of the collar. Then, perhaps more careful even than when he was positioning his foot in the first place, Wels started bending his leg again, dragging the metal band forwards bit by bit.
With each centimetre it moved forwards, he felt hope sparking in his chest. He was actually getting somewhere. There was progress, actual, visual progress. Sure, it wasn’t a lot, not yet, but it was there, and that was what counted.
Despite wanting to rush it, despite wanting to get this to the finish line as fast as he could, Wels forced himself to keep slow and steady. He was not going to fail when he was this close. He wouldn’t make himself suffer that kind of blow to his morale. That simply wouldn’t do.
And so he worked on, shifting the collar over the slabs until it was basically at the edge of them and then just a little bit further. There, he moved his foot up and around again, approaching from the bottom this time, moving his toes to the inside of the collar with his heel flat against the wall. From there on out, it was smooth sailing.
Without much issue, he lifted his leg up further, until the collar was around his lower leg like some kind of unfashionable anklet. Then Wels just started moving backwards further and further until he could sit up and actually retrieve the metal band from his leg.
It felt strange, holding the thing in his hands. Almost like he shouldn’t be doing so, like it was forbidden or something, despite no one having said anything like that. That being said, even if that spidery bastard had mentioned something of the sorts, Wels was quite sure he wouldn’t have listened anyway. Even if he had cared about any sort of authority Arachne might have had, he cared more about remaining himself.
It’s poetic how I’m using a tool of imprisonment to try to attain freedom once more… Joe would be proud of me.
He chuckled to himself as he played around with the collar and chains a little, trying to find a position from where he could properly start bashing the metal band against the chain links of his own collar. It was a tad tricky, given that he needed to make sure that he could actually lay his own chain on the floor without having to bend down too much, while also retaining enough space on Scar’s chain in order to be able to properly swing the collar down.
Eventually, though, he figured out something that worked. It probably wasn’t the optimal way of doing things, but it seemed like he had the time to improve things as he went. For now, he was long glad he could hold down his chain with his feet, because that freed up one of his hands for some more controlled bashing.
Then Wels lifted up the collar and brought it down for the very first time. The good news was that it didn’t immediately bend nor break. The bad news was that the chain didn’t either, but if he was honest, he wasn’t expecting that to happen immediately. Much like crafting proper armour, or like building a large base, one single small action usually went unnoticed, and it was only when a lot of little things were combined that the effect became visible.
This surely isn’t any different. I just need to be persistent, and hope no one comes in before I’m done.
He continued going, smashing the two bits of metal together rhythmically. At first, he did so in silence, merely focussed on the task at hand, but before he knew it, he was humming along, imagining the clanking of collar on chain was the beat to some song or another. Then the knight realised it could actually be the beat if he just found the right words and the right tempo to sing along to.
In the end, he settled on some sea shanties, given that those were quite literally made to do rhythmical tasks to. It was a shame he would have to sing them by himself, but such was his current situation. He’d just have to sing extra loud so the slight echo of the room could make him feel less alone.
Just like that, he went on and on, working until his arms were tired and then some more. Wels was sweating despite not even wearing a gambeson or armour, and strands of his hair were stuck to his face. He didn’t even bother wiping them to the side anymore, knowing it wouldn’t help for long. He just knew he had to keep going until he physically couldn’t anymore, then rest for a little bit and start back up again. He simply had to.
While the knight himself showed all the signs of having worked hard for a while, nothing was less true for the chain and collar. They both looked much the same as before, with the small exception of the collar now having an edge that was ever so slightly sharper than the rest.
Well, worst case it can be a weapon, I guess…
Perhaps, though, if he looked close enough, he would be able to see a few places where some small shards of metal had come off. Wels knew he had seen a few of them flying past his legs, and he was sure he wasn’t imagining the little scratches where a few of them had actually hit, but that was just about the only way to see he had actually done something.
Still, little progress was better than no progress, and he knew that he would eventually chip off enough of the metal for the chain to break. The question was just what would happen first, him freeing himself, the Hermits rescuing him, or, in the worst case, his plan being discovered and foiled. Of course, Wels was hoping for one of the former two cases, because that would be best for him and worst for that damn spider.
The knight sat back a little, blinking and looking around for the first time in a while, his breathing slowly slowing down to a normal rate again. He put Scar’s collar down on the ground next to him, letting some of the feeling in his hands return. He rubbed his thumbs over the places where the edges of the metal band had left clear lines, hissing through his teeth whenever he accidentally went over a blister instead. It wasn’t the first time a tool had caused blisters, despite him certainly having quite some calluses on his fingers and palm, but that didn’t make his current blisters hurt any less.
Still, Wels knew he couldn’t let a thing such as blisters stop him from gaining back his freedom. He just had to work on, to keep going, to break his chain bit by bit until he was free.
A sigh rolled over his lips as he wiped hair and sweat alike from his face. This was going to take a long time indeed.
Notes:
oh, hey, wels is doing things!
Chapter 88: Arc 3 - 12
Summary:
A new web being spun. Fight, little fly.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
There was surprisingly little they could do in what would become the centre of their power. It didn’t help that it wasn’t finished, of course, and the fact that they had no little flies to try and convince to take their mark meant they had no hands-on amusement to spend their time with. That being said, there were definitely still things Arachne could do as they waited for their various little spiders to complete the tasks given to them.
The first thing they did was spinning a temporary web to stay in until their new throne room was ready. It didn’t take long, though, and before they knew it, they were done. Arachne climbed into the web, making sure their little spider was still in sight. Then they started moving their hands, clicking and hissing the sounds that would allow them to look beyond what they had any business seeing in the meanwhile.
Their gaze set on infinity, and they leaned back. The next time they blinked, they saw something else than the heart of the volcano. They saw someone staring seemingly straight at them, one with blue armour that glinted purple, green eyes locked in their direction. They weren’t the green of their little spiders, though, this was… They weren’t entirely sure. It was more or less the same colour as the blood they had seen on some of their little flies, if anything.
Still, what colour it was didn’t really matter. What mattered was where said colour was. It was in their lair, and further into it than they might have wanted. It annoyed them to no end, but there currently wasn’t much they could do about it. Certainly, they had more or less expected those pesky Hermits to break through the first line of defence, but that didn’t mean they had to like it. On the contrary, even. They absolutely despised it.
Their gaze moved over from the one person in front to the various other people further back, that were already moving closer to the centre of their lair. Arachne counted seven in total, all armoured up and decked out with weapons and shields. It certainly would be challenging for their spiders, but they believed it could still be done. If their assumptions were correct, what they had cooked up should be enough to ward off the attack. Sure, they might lose one of the flies in their web in the worst-case scenario, but that was fine. Compared to the one left, this was fodder.
The main thing was making sure that their opposition would not get hold of the one that kept going against them at every opportunity. In retrospect it would probably have been better to have brought him along instead of leaving him in their lair, but it was too late to change that, Arachne wasn’t able to get him out without personally going there right now. Besides, there was no cell ready in their new lair to keep him in, which was problematic to say the least.
Arachne looked on for a few moments longer, before switching their perspective to some other place. A group of spiders pulled at their mind, trying to pass on a message, and a quick glance through their eyes showed why. With a grin, they broke the connection, letting the magic flow out of them and looking through their own eyes instead. Then they clicked and hissed different sounds, reaching out to their little spider, as well as the spiders around him.
“Bring him to the volcano,” they commanded, and they didn’t need to shift their gaze again to know the message was received. So instead of going back to those specific spiders, they once more incantated before trying to find some spider in a different place, where the other little spiders were. There had been some there before, but those had gone now, fallen victim to those brutes that hid themselves underground, unwilling to see Arachne for what they were: the true ruler over this domain.
Still, despite their original infiltrators having perished, new ones had swiftly taken their place. Smaller, this time. Less noticeable. Easier to miss. That didn’t mean they could no longer use them, though, and before long, Arachne was once again looking on to what was happening, just in a slightly different place now. They could see their little spiders fighting some of those pesky Hermits, seemingly having the upper hand. At the very least, judging by how there was a literal hand laying on the ground, unattached to a body. It brought them great joy to see.
It also made them realise that they had forgotten to update spawning after moving into the volcano, which could prove problematic if their little spiders forced a little fly into their web right there and then. They would still end up in the old lair, effectively meaning reinforcements to the ones attacking there, which was something they needed to prevent. Besides, what good would a little fly do over there? The sooner Arachne would get their hands on one, the sooner they could convince them to become a little spider instead.
With an annoyed hiss they stopped looking once more. It seemed like their little spiders had the situation under control anyway. Making sure that spawning happened in the right place was most pressing right there and then. Of course, cells needed to be arranged too, or at the very least some way of containing those pesky Hermits until they chose the right side, but that would come afterwards, when little Sally returned. Arachne reckoned could build that which was necessary after having delivered the Worldshaper’s communicator and the mole.
For now, though, they had magic to call, code to change, laws of nature to alter. Arachne went to work without further ado, delving deep into once-unfamiliar territory to change around a few numbers. It wouldn’t be simple, though. Last time they had done so, they had… left a few things, traps for a careless Worldshaper that might’ve wanted to revert things back to normal. Sadly, this now also meant having to disable said traps without accidentally springing one on themselves. It was doable, that was not the point, it was just annoying to have to go through all that work. It would be well worth it in the long term, though.
Their various windows filled with code were still hanging in the air around them when the flapping of wings broke the relative silence of the inside of the volcano. Arachne didn’t even need to glance up to see who it was. They felt Sally’s presence there, and he could wait until they were done making their adjustments. Not even him being there with the Worldshaper’s communicator changed the fact that there was an almost literal deadline to what they were doing right there and then.
And so, Arachne kept on clicking and hissing and inputting bits of code until their traps had been disabled, until spawn was once again changed for their own betterment, until the traps were all back in place once more. The latter part may not have been necessary, given the fact that if everything were correct, the other Worldshaper would now be without the terminal through which he could exert his control over reality, but Arachne very much decided to not take that chance. Not this close to achieving their own plans, their own dreams.
At long last, they looked up, seeing their little spider kneeling in front of them, the communicator in his outstretched hands and the mole laying on his back on the ground before him. The man was trembling weakly, but somehow still got the strength together to lift his head up as they approached, moving over the web as though it was just regular flooring.
“You’re… you’re a- hrnnng- right bastard… you know?” the mole muttered between groans of pain, looking them directly into the eyes. There was fear on his face, and something more, but most of it was obscured by pain. It seemed like the poison they had gifted their little spiders with had done its job well, which almost made them grin, were it not for the blatant disrespect this little fly was showing them.
In response, they moved forwards further, harshly setting the end of one of their legs right in the centre of his stomach. It evoked a wince from the mole, as though he didn’t quite agree with what they were doing. Arachne, however, didn’t care.
“Silence, little fly... Your turn will come.”
They shifted their attention over to their little spider, taking the communicator from his hands without much ceremony. They looked it over once on all sides, happy to find a name etched into the back of it. A name that at the very least reasonably looked like it could be pronounced in the same way they had heard the mole do before. That was just about everything that could be said about the name, though, given that apparently some of the letters simply weren’t pronounced or put in entirely different orders than the way it was spelled.
Not that it mattered a whole lot, though. The main thing of importance was the fact that they now had it in their hands, and with it, the fate of the world.
“Excellent…” they said, shifting their focus to their little spider. Arachne’s eye fell on the small wound on his cheek, and they made a sound of disdain. “You allowed this pesky little fly to wound you? I expected better from you,” they then hissed, their eyes almost boring themselves into his.
“I’m sorry, Master. It won’t happen again,” he spoke back, a certain tremble in his voice. They squinted at him, coming even closer before grabbing him by the neck and lifting him up to their eye height, his legs kicking in the air.
“It better not, or you will not like what I’ll do to you.” Their voice was low, so low, and they didn’t even try to hide their disdain and anger. What good would a little spider do, if he wasn’t even able to come out of a fight unscathed? That being said, it also wouldn’t do to punish him right now, as doing so properly would certainly impede him for longer than they could currently use. Ah, decisions, decisions.
Sally was turning slightly blue-ish as he grasped at their wrists, trying to alleviate the pressure on his neck a little. It also seemed like he was trying to say something in return, but no sounds actually managed to get out of his mouth. He looked quite miserable, though.
For a few seconds longer, Arachne squinted at him. Then they let go of him, dropping him to the ground. The little spider coughed and wheezed as he regained his breath, his eyes focussed on the ground as he moved back into a kneeling position.
Meanwhile, the mole on the ground moved around slightly, as though that could stop them from doing what they were doing. He seemed to not like what was happening there, but Arachne frankly didn’t care. Why would a spider be concerned about the thoughts of a measly fly? Without much subtlety, they kicked him in the side to shut him up, and immediately what weak protests he had been supplying turned into a low whine.
“I have an assignment for you, little spider. You will build up four cells in this cave, as close around the core of the volcano as possible. Dig into it, if necessary. The other little spider has materials,” Arachne spoke, as though they had not been threatening Sally just moments before. The little spider himself nodded.
“Of course, Master. It will be done.”
“Excellent. Now go.”
They turned to the mole on the ground, picking him up like a ragdoll. Sure, he offered token resistance, but most of his energy seemed to go to fighting the poison in his system at that point. There had to be quite some of it, judging by the amount of rips and tears in his suit, and by the blood staining the edges of his otherwise white shirt. Arachne wondered how much it would take them right there and then to push him over the edge, to make him accept their marking without too much fuss.
First though, there was something else they needed to do. They wanted a… souvenir of sorts. A hunting trophy. They looked the mole up and down, before settling for what they thought seemed like the most recognisable bit of him.
A grin spread on their mandibles as they shifted their attention to the claws on their hands. Surely those were sharp enough to detach the bit they wanted. One of their free hands shot out, grabbing the little fly by the chin, so that he couldn’t move his head too much as they worked. Then they reached out with another hand, in a motion that could almost have been to shush him. Instead, though, they let their claw glide over his skin, twisted in just the right way that they could cut through any hair in the way.
And cut they did. Strands of black hair fell to the floor, few at first, then many, as they very methodically shaved his moustache from his face. That was theirs, now, to be kept with their other trophies or perhaps to be used to taunt their enemies, as they had also done before.
Arachne was enjoying the process a whole lot. The same could definitely not be said from the mole, who was weakly trying and failing to get away from them, with a mixture of disbelief and sadness in his eyes.
“Not… my moustache… please! Not again…” he complained, almost as though losing his facial hair was something he did more often. Still, it wasn’t the weirdest thing Arachne had seen, not by a long shot, and no amount of complaining or begging was going to make them change their mind. That being said, though, there was something they could try right there and then.
“If you accept my mark, I will stop.” They paused their cutting momentarily, staring him straight in the eyes. The question was how much he valued his moustache.
Instead of caving, though, as they had half hoped he would do, his eyes hardened, some of the trembling in his body stopping.
“Never… you hear me…? Never. I won’t… accept… anything else… but… my friends back.” He was still struggling to push out the words, but part of the shakiness in his voice seemed to be gone, instead replaced by some kind of determination. Still, he had given them something to work with.
“I can do that, little fly. Accept my mark, and they will be your friends once more.”
What they of course didn’t say was the fact that their little spiders would be this little fly’s friends once more once he had turned into a little spider himself, but that didn’t matter. Arachne assumed the mole would be able to pick up on that on his own, but if he didn’t… Well.
“That… That seems… too good… to be true…” he muttered, blinking slowly before grinding his teeth together to suppress a groan of poison-induced pain.
“Do I look like a liar to you, little fly?” they asked, their voice going into a dangerously low territory once more.
“Now that… you ask it… Yes… I’d reckon.” A grin they didn’t like appeared on his face, and Arachne decided right there and then that this little fly would not get any more chances. They had asked nicely, even promising something in return, and this was what they got?
A shame… Well. I have other ways of getting what I desire. Ways that won’t be as benevolent.
Instead of answering, they made a hiss of disdain, before continuing to shave the moustache from his face. He tried complaining again, of course, but they quickly quelled that by digging their claws a little bit deeper into the places where they were holding him already. The extra bit of pain seemed to be enough to shut him up, save for little groans and whines, but that was okay.
Not long later, the last of his facial hair had fallen to the ground, and Arachne moved his head from side to side, to look at their handywork from a few different angles. The mole himself once again seemed to not enjoy it as much as they did, and they were almost certain they could see a few droplets welling up in the corners of his eyes.
They dropped him to the ground too, then, but not before gathering up a significant amount of their trophy. Some bits had fallen into the little cracks and gaps in the floor, which was a shame, but not something they could have prevented. Still, the mole tried to get what little hair he could back, which admittedly wasn’t much.
Arachne simply let him, having other things to worry about. First things first, they needed to make sure the mole would not be able to escape while little Sally was building the cells. Luckily, they had had the presence of mind to remember to take a few of the collars and chains from their old lair, which would just need to be enough right there and then. With a quick glance at the miserable state of their prisoner, they decided they could lose sight of him for half a minute or so as they grabbed what they needed. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere.
And indeed, as they returned with a clanking chain and collar in their hands, he was still there, on the floor, although it seemed like he had attempted to drag himself away from their web. Key word there was ‘attempted’, seeing as he had maybe moved half a meter. Arachne couldn’t help but chuckle as they saw him.
Pathetic.
Without much warning, they picked him up once more. Then they took the collar in their two free hands, and started hissing and clicking a sequence they knew all too well. Their hands started to glow a soft green, and they felt the metal bending underneath their fingers.
“What… are you… doing?” the mole asked, worry creeping into his voice despite everything. Arachne once more didn’t answer, instead moving to bend the collar around his neck. If he had disliked the removal of his facial hair, the mole liked this even less. He did what he could to escape from their grasp, tried moving his head and neck as far away from them as he could, but ultimately, it didn’t matter.
They were pulling the strings there, not him. Eventually, he would work himself in a corner, from which he could only wait to accept his fate. That moment didn’t in the slightest take long to come, and Arachne bent the metal band tightly around his throat. And even then, they were being merciful. They could have made it tighter; they could have blocked off most of his access to oxygen, but they hadn’t.
Arachne’s task was not finished when the two ends of the band met, though. The chain needed to be affixed to it too, and after that the ending of that needed to be secured as well. Nevertheless, those were not long tasks in the slightest, just more of the same. Just more clicking and hissing and bending and fusing until it was done.
The end result was slightly improvised, but it would do. Arachne didn’t plan on letting their little fly out of sight before he had accepted their marking, and as such, they had decided to anchor the other end of the chain near their web, far enough away that he would not be able to reach it. It would do for now.
With that out of the way, though, they had to get to work on some other things. More important things.
Arachne climbed back into their web, and took out the newest addition to their collection of communicators. It seemed identical to the others, save for the name etched in the back, of course, but that didn’t have to mean anything. They opened it up, the screen glowing to life under their fingers. There were names on their, names they had come to recognise as being the names of their enemies. There were unread messages there, too, in the group chat. Messages about being under attack. Messages about needing backup.
Messages that made them grin.
Still, that was not what they needed to do right there and then. They needed to make sure that those pathetic Hermits came out of hiding to fight, so their little spiders could send them into their web as soon as possible.
And so, they started typing a message. Then, after reading it over one last time, they hit ‘Send’.
<Xisuma> I need everyone that isn’t already doing so to go and help defend against the invaders. NOW.
Notes:
lets just imagine i posted this at a normal time instead of at half past two at night.
Chapter 89: Arc 3 - 13
Summary:
A forgotten house between the waves.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
In the distance, the flat horizon the ocean offered was suddenly broken up as green spikes jutted up from the sea floor. They seemed to shimmer, the inner few spikes seemingly shifting between slightly different shades of turquoise. It was truly a sight to behold, even more so because he was sick and tired of rowing. Sure, being out on the ocean had had its benefits, such as easing him into experiencing sounds and smells and colours and everything again, but at some point it had become monotonous.
Sure, there had been times with relatively large amounts of action, such as when a few drowned tried to break his little boat with their tridents, or like that time he had heard a flying thing approach and he had hastily jumped into the water just to not be spotted, but that was about it. His hands were sore from the handles of the oars, his back hurt, and his lungs were burning, not used to the amount of action they had been getting. Still, Ex had kept going, fuelled primarily by his need for dramatic revenge.
And now his goal was finally in sight. That strange base his brother had built out of shards of prismarine, completely surrounded by water. He didn’t quite know how long it had taken him to build, but Ex didn’t particularly care. What he did care about, though, was the fact that his brother would most likely be just there, in the centre of the thing. He wasn’t too sure yet how he would actually get in, but he still had some rowing to do before he would get to that point. He’d think of something.
With every haul of the oars he came a little bit closer, but the same could sadly not be said of the plan that was forming in his mind. It wasn’t that he wasn’t prepared, it was more that he would almost be going in blind. Ex didn’t know how much that monstrosity of a base had changed since the last time he had been there, Before, but if it was more than a little bit… Well. That would make planning his next steps significantly more difficult.
Maybe I just need to think about this some more. Maybe I should just row around it a few times, to scout it out and look for an entrance. What if he’s waiting there for me, just ready to send me back? What if he knows? What if… What if he just… I don’t know, what if he isn’t there? Void, I don’t even know what to say if I see him. Hmm… A speech? Maybe I need to prepare some kind of speech. A monologue, if you will. That does sound sufficiently dramatic, and if I then after that take his communicator and ban him… Yes, that should work, but… Again, only if he’s there! Aargh, why is getting revenge so difficult? I-
His thoughts were rudely interrupted by the front of the boat gently colliding with a spike of dark prismarine. It looked like his worries had flowed straight into his rowing speed, and now that he was there, he wasn’t quite sure what to do next. Well, not entirely, at the very least. From where he was, he could see how the spikes didn’t entirely block out the wall of sandstone holding the water back, and for the first time, Evil X regretted not taking the various tools that had been back at spawn. Those would have most definitely made his life easier right there and then, but he couldn’t ever have it easy, now could he?
With a sigh he turned his boat a little, carefully navigating it through the shadows of the prismarine as he approached the wall of sandstone. He wasn’t going to break it and flood his brother’s base, he would not stoop so low, but it would probably be easier to climb down there than to try to do so over at the spikes with their irregular shapes and curves.
At the wall, he hopped out of the boat and onto it. For the first time, he could look down into the base, his form casting a broken shadow onto the large structure in the centre. It was the part that kept shimmering and shifting from colour to colour slowly, almost too slow to be noticed. Almost. He noticed it, though.
What he also noticed was the fact that where once was basically a drop straight into the base, it was now closed off with more sandstone. Ex frowned, not entirely sure what to do with the situation. Sure, he could go down there, and hope his brother had forgotten a single slab somewhere, but what were the chances of that? Xisuma was thorough when he did things, and forgetting something like that didn’t sound like him, not in the slightest.
An annoyed sigh rolled over his lips. He’d have to find another way in. His eyes darted around, looking for some kind of opening in the structure. There had to be some way that his brother could get in through, even without an elytra in case accidents happened. The question was simply where it was.
Things would have been easier if he had just taken everything that had been in the Did You Die? box over at spawn, and if he had not just borrowed the armour and a sword. After all, he had been planning on returning everything anyway, might as well make full use of it. Hindsight made that abundantly clear.
Still, Ex was not going to just will those objects into existence and was therefore very much bound to the ground. He could climb, certainly, but if he climbed up, he had to get down in some way too, and he would rather not break his legs in a fall. That would complicate matters.
For a moment his gaze fell on the top of the prismarine spire, which didn’t actually form a spike at the top but seemed more or less flat. It was only for the virtue of him not having any diamonds, otherwise he would have betted on that very top being open for easily flying in.
Stupid Xisuma with his stupid wings and his stupid base. What about people without elytra, huh? Are they supposed to literally just drop in and hope for the best?
He actually considered climbing up and trying to climb down on the inside for a short moment, but he quickly shoved the thought away. The prismarine wall didn’t go straight upwards, it was ever so slightly diagonal. While that would make the climb up a little easier, it would make the climb downwards a whole lot more difficult, and quite frankly, he would rather spend a little bit of time searching for another way in. Perhaps on one of the other sides?
His eyes darted over to the wall he was standing on. In an ideal world, he would be able to walk over it and around all sides without issue. In an ideal world he also wouldn’t have had to go here in the first place because his brother wouldn’t exist, but alas. In this world, though, he would have to find another way around, because some of the spikes of dark prismarine fully blocked the corners. Because of course his brother had decided that aesthetics was more important than useability.
The only thing there was left to do was to simply get back in his boat and row around, hoping to find an entrance. Knowing his brother, it was probably in some dumb place like underwater or something, for maximum annoyance. Ex grumbled as he took up the oars once more and started navigating his little boat back out of the spikes.
Can a man just have his revenge without first having to navigate through architecture hell? Can I have that one thing, after everything I’ve gone through so far? Just a little bit of luck, just something that goes right?
The waves crashed gently into the wooden vehicle as he rounded the first corner. At first glance, it looked basically identical to the side he had been on first, almost a mirror image of geometric shapes. He was even quite sure that the spikes were exact copies.
Of course they were.
Of course his ever perfect brother would have a perfect base because how could he not? It simply wouldn’t do otherwise, would it?
Ex squinted at the spikes for a moment longer, hoping to find something that seemed out of place, something that didn’t quite match, hoping for some human error that he could rub in Xisuma’s face once he came face to face with him.
Much to his annoyance, there was nothing he could spot, so he just grumbled a bit before moving on. He couldn’t let frustration cloud his mind while he was trying to get things done. That was simply not going to help him in the slightest.
The third side was not different at all from the first two. While it had looked like it for a short moment, Ex was quick to realise that what he had first assumed were actual differences were merely shadows that fell over some of the areas, making it difficult to see where one spike stopped and the next began. He briefly hoped that the shadows hid an entrance, but knew already that adding an entrance was a conscious choice, and that conscious choice would more than probably not result in a small hidden hole somewhere that he could drop in through.
The symmetry of it all was enough to almost make him give up on the fourth side of the base without ever seeing it. Almost. His desire to confront his brother was larger than his faith in his brother’s desire for symmetry and geometric shapes, and as such, he kept rowing.
The fourth side was a disappointment too, though. The spires were all the same as on the other sides, with no side of an entrance in sight. Ex squinted, anger bubbling in his chest, rowing his little boat closer so he could get onto the sandstone wall before pacing over to the nearest spire.
“Stupid prismarine! How do I get inside, huh? How?!” he exclaimed as he kicked the dark shards making up the spike. Much to his annoyance, it did absolutely nothing. It seemed like violence against innocent building blocks was not the way in, which absolutely didn’t surprise him. Just to be sure, though, he kicked it again, much to the same lack of effect.
It called for a different plan.
“XISUMA! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE, COME OUT AND FACE ME! OR ARE YOU TOO MUCH OF A COWARD FOR THAT?!” he proceeded to call out, his hand gliding to the sword on his hip despite him not planning on being the first one to land a blow.
The inside of the base stayed silent, though. The only sounds Ex could hear were the washing of the waves, the shrieks of seagulls in the distance, and the dying cries of some kind of mob coming from inside, again and again.
“DON’T YOU WANT TO SEE YOUR BROTHER?”
Again, it was like trying to interact with any of the matterless matter in That Place. No matter how much energy he put into it, there was simply no response. Not even an acknowledgement of him being there.
Maybe… Maybe he’s just too far away, too many walls between me and him. Yeah, that has to be it, after all, where else could he be?
Truth was, Ex wasn’t entirely sure where else that damned brother of his could possibly be. He hoped he was in trouble, of course, and that he was still in this world together with those friends of his.
He was just about to go and kick the spike a third time when he realised that was just not going to do anything. Instead, he laid his hand on the prismarine, resting the top of his helmet against it too.
“I’m sorry, this… you can’t help having been built into this, I shouldn’t vent my frustration on things that don’t deserve it.”
With a sigh, he let go again, looking around one last time before turning to go back to his boat.
Then he stopped in his tracks.
There was something under the water.
Something made of glass and concrete.
Something that looked like a railway, headed straight into Xisuma’s base.
Not to far in the distance, it broke through the water surface, and Ex had to blink and pinch himself to make sure that he was not in fact dreaming. This was going to make everything easier. This was going to make everything so much easier.
With renewed energy and a grin on his face he got into his boat, turning it around faster than he had done before. That was his way in. He had found it, all by himself, and he was sure he could go in there. That was, if it wasn’t trapped. He didn’t trust his brother to not have done something like that, and redstone… He still didn’t have the hang of that stuff, it was like magic to him, except that he actually more or less understood admin magic.
Before he knew it, his boat once more hit a wall, this time the glass one of the underwater tunnel, and he had to make a decision. Going in, and hoping that it wasn’t trapped? Or staying out, and hoping that there was another entrance somewhere?
He briefly looked over to the base, then to the railway. It didn’t look trapped, but he knew how deceiving looks could be. How else could his dearest brother keep getting away with the awful stuff he did? Without him wanting to, Ex’s mind drifted back to That Place for a moment, and to that moment his brother had sent him there. To that moment where Xisuma had broken the last shard of broken trust Ex had had left in him.
It filled him with anger, with a need to tell his side of the story to someone, but most of all with a need for retribution.
The rails clanked as he jumped down onto it, and with every pace the light of the sun dimmed further as the tunnel went deeper and deeper under water. He would find his brother, and he would make him feel what he had felt.
Ex was pleased to discover that he could just waltz into the main room of the base from the tunnel, the closest thing to a trap on the way being a single bit of cactus that was just standing there, presumably doing something important. His footsteps echoed over the glass floor as he walked to the middle.
“XISUMA!” he shouted, hoping that it would have more of an effect now. His voice bounced off the walls and echoed faintly, but he didn’t hear a response, not even after a few seconds. “WHERE ARE YOU, XISUMA? ARE YOU SCARED?”
There were no footsteps, there was no voice responding, there was no flapping of elytra or the sound of rockets. The base was eerily quiet except for what looked like oversized fish flapping around on a ledge before dying noisily.
Actually, the more he looked around, the more he had the idea that the base had been deserted, somehow. It was just… It wasn’t that it was dusty, but the amount of cobwebs in the corners and along all the little nooks and crannies… That didn’t seem like his brother. That didn’t seem like his brother in the slightest.
“X? ARE YOU EVEN HERE?” he called out, and despite him not wanting it to, some worry crept into his voice. Not worry that something bad had happened to his brother, though. Worry that he had been left behind. Worry that Xisuma and his friends had happily skipped over to a new world, damning him to an eternity alone. No, worse, even, damning him to an eternity alone in That Place.
Evil X didn’t want to be alone. Not again.
He ran over to the various recesses in the walls, hoping to find something more there. Hoping to find a trace of his brother, however small. Hoping to find confirmation he wasn’t entirely alone, besides mobs, or drones flying around on autopilot. He searched and searched, going through doors and even braving his distrust for redstone to look between the machinery his brother had built.
It wasn’t much different from the main room, though. It was just deserted, with cobwebs in every place where a web could viably be. There were spiders too, shooting out of sight whenever he looked their way.
The longer he searched, the more webs he found, the more worry and panic slipped into his voice as he called out, again and again and again.
The walls remained silent, though.
His brother simply wasn’t there, and Ex had no clue where he could be, but his mind was telling him one thing, and one thing only.
This base was not the only base that had looked deserted. That other base he was at before, the purple one, that had also been covered in webs as though no one had taken care of it in a long time. Xisuma and his friends had to have left, at some point, completely forgetting about him.
It took all he had in him to pull himself back together enough to stumble back into the main room. There, though, he fell to his knees on the ground, the storm in his mind growing out of control despite how sunny it was outside.
I’m… alone? Not much of a change from before, but… This is different. This feels… More final, somehow?
His breathing hitched in his throat as he consciously thought about it, and he crumpled together, hugging himself as his tears started falling down onto the glass of his visor.
He would figure something out. He had to. For now, though… he would allow himself to be sad, to feel things, to give it a place.
And after that… Well. Who knew what time would bring?
Notes:
and this kids is why you want more than two data points before drawing conclusions.
Chapter 90: Arc 3 - 14
Summary:
Look at his claws, his claws are amazing.
Notes:
This chapter contains graphic depictions of violence as well as a bunch of blood. Be warned. (I would usually say exactly where it starts and stops but it's basically everywhere this time.)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The rich smell of iron slowly seeped into the air as scarlet blood seeped through his prey’s wounds. There were more sources, too, blending together until the smells were almost inseparable. Almost. He could still catch slight differences to discern how many people were bleeding, and he could also tell exactly which smell belonged to his own blood.
Not that he particularly cared that he was bleeding. It was a natural part of fighting, to bleed. If anything, it merely motivated him more to keep going, to make sure that his opponent would bleed more than he would. The wolf moved his claws around, getting ready for another flurry of scratches and stabs, already having his eyes firmly settled on the weaker spots in the armour.
The armpits seemed open, as were her elbows. And her neck… A sword would have some issues going past the bit of gorget she was wearing, but his claws had no such issue. If he could just tear through her jugulars, this fight could be over within seconds. A grin spread over his face, baring sharp canines.
When that other prey started screaming was the time he attacked, because for the shortest of moments, his own prey seemed to be distracted by it. The wolf’s sword went under hers, and he danced around her as he let it glide under her arm. She let out a sound that only encouraged him to keep going, that only heightened his lust for blood, specifically for hers. He lashed out with his claws, but not fast enough, as she turned and managed to block, her own sword colliding with his vambrace and bringing his arm to a halt. Before she could parry, though, he was already moving again, lashing out with his sword towards another of her perceived weak spots. This blow she blocked with ease, but again, he simply kept going, his hits arriving faster and faster as she started slowing down.
It was only when his packmate moved up and started flanking once more that the wolf started disregarding his own safety and started to take more risks. It didn’t matter, after all, they had her cornered, and judging by how she slowly but surely had to give up ground… This fight was not going to take much longer. Especially not if his prey’s packmate was whimpering on the ground, trying to stick a small blue thing against the stump of his arm.
“FALSE! Iskall, Ren, what are you two doing? This isn’t you, luvs, please stop!” came another female voice from further down the hallway, and the wolf’s prey seemed to visibly relax a little bit. In his own mind, though, recognition sparked, although he wasn’t sure why. That pathetic part of him seemed to know, but the wolf didn’t care. Still, it made him stop for a moment, which his prey made thankful use of.
There suddenly was a sword skidding over his chestplate, and he heard her hiss as her hand scratched over the sharp edges of his armour. It didn’t stop her from trying again, though, but this time the wolf was prepared, catching her wrist in his claws.
At just about the same moment, he felt something heavy connecting with his shoulder, and pain radiated out of it despite his armour, and the shock was enough to open his hand again.
“Oh no you don’t,” came a gruff voice from behind him. His prey sadly took the opportunity to retract her arm again, and he growled loudly, first at her, then at his new opponent. This was already taking longer than he had wanted, and suddenly no longer having the advantage in numbers was not going to help. He danced out of the way so both his opponents were in front of him and he was delighted to find his new prey was old, not fit for fighting. His hair was a silvery white, as was his long beard, and he had a pickaxe instead of a sword. He was armoured though, just as much as his other prey, and the diamond surface carried that same glint of enchantment.
Still, it shouldn’t be a problem. In theory, he only had to hit each of them once, and then he could just switch over to defending until the poison on his blade had weakened them enough. In practice, however, it seemed like that was taking longer than he had expected. While the wolf could see the skin of his prey slowly turning darker and darker, it seemed like something was actively working against it, pushing against it. He had noticed the same with his own wounds, save for the poison aspect of course. It seemed like especially the shallower cuts were already starting to heal, which showed something else was at play.
A beacon. They must have a beacon.
He squinted at the prey in front of him, and then briefly over to the side, towards his packmate. He was fighting two people as well, although the blue one still wasn’t doing much aside from messing with his arm and making delicious noises of pain. The other one… Well. Her sword was shaking, and she wasn’t doing much more than deflecting, almost as though she didn’t want to hurt his packmate.
Weak. Weakness has no place in Arachne’s world.
Despite wanting to end her quickly, the wolf knew it was best to instead go for the two standing in front of him, taking one down and then the other. He growled as he shifted his attention, and then shot forwards without warning, straight for the throat of the woman. Instead of feeling soft skin under his claws, though, he felt only wood as he slammed into her shield. Still, she stumbled backwards further than the earlier times she had blocked, and he was not about to let that opportunity go.
He raised his sword and kept pressing against the shield, driving her back until he had her pinned against the wall. Then he started stabbing at her, around the shield, aiming for whatever bit of unprotected meat he could find. This close to her, the smell of blood was thick in the air, but the smell had been shifting from the thick scent of iron towards something that lightly burnt his nose. Something that smelled the same as his swords. It reeked of poison, and that pleased him.
“Ren, no, please! This isn’t you, man!” she panted, fear creeping into her expression. For the shortest moment he felt something pulling at his mind, something familiar about it all, but he pushed it away. This was not the time for weakness towards prey. Actually, no time was the time for weakness, not if he had any say in it. The weak would die, the strong would reign.
She let out a yelp at the same time he felt his sword hit something soft, and his grin only widened. Before he could push further, though, he heard footsteps behind him, and he only just managed to dance out of the way to dodge another blow with a pickaxe. It was annoying, very much so, but there was very little he could do about it, given that he would rather survive finishing off his prey.
Without warning he shifted his attention over to the old man, lashing out with his claws. They found hard diamond instead of soft meat, but it was enough to make the man step back a little, away from him.
Pathetic, not only weak but also a coward.
A name being screamed over by his packmate seemed to distract the older man for a moment, and the wolf took that moment to go after the weakest of his prey once more. Her shield was shaking now, and she had gone pale, eyes rapidly focussing and defocussing as he came closer and attacked. Gone were those lightning quick blocks and parries from earlier, now she was barely able to do either of those, her sword and shield consistently arriving too late as he drove her back against the wall, his weapons and claws grating over her armour and over soft tissue every now and then. Still, whenever he didn’t cut deep enough, the wounds already started closing again, and the longer it took, the more he knew that perhaps, in this case, there was a way in which to power down his prey significantly. He just needed to go and find their beacon, to just destroy it before they could stop him.
In order to do that, though, he first needed to shake off his prey. The wolf glanced between the two, judging the worry and anger in the face of the old man before grinning and clawing at the neck of the weaker one.
“NO! FALSE!” the old man exclaimed as the wolf felt blood well up under his claws and the eyes of the blonde woman widened. Footsteps once more came towards him, faster this time, and he felt the tip of a pickaxe grinding over his armour as he stepped away. Instead of further attacks, though he went and rushed towards the woman, the had gone even paler and was sagging to the ground, one hand clasped against her neck while she just looked at him in disbelief. The old man pulled a bottle with a reddish liquid in it from his inventory, fumbling to get it open, and the wolf knew that this was the moment to slip away, while everyone was busy. In the worst case, he was quite sure his packmate would be able to fend their prey off for a while, until he got back that was.
And so he ran, going in the direction the second woman had come from, his footsteps nearly inaudible on the stone floor. The only thing that gave him away was his panting and the occasional clattering of his armour, but that was probably okay. He didn’t necessarily need to be able to surprise someone in order to take them down anyway.
Once he was a few corners away, he slowed down, taking a moment to sniff the air in order to find his way. Beacons always caused a faint smell of ozone in the air, and he just had to find it and lock on to it.
At first, it looked like it could be impossible to find it between everything else. There was the musty smell of earth, the slightly sour smell of rooms where sweating people had been, the scent of pancakes, the metallic scent of blood, the smells of various people, the sweet smell of potions, and so many more small things that he couldn’t even properly identify. No ozone, though, not yet.
He moved forwards a little, sniffing from left to right, and then he stopped in his tracks.
His nose wrinkled as he inhaled deeply, and he grinned his canines bare. There was a hint of something metallic in the air, something sweet and pungent. Something he recognised. Ozone. Beacon.
It seemed to be the strongest over towards the ladder coming through the floor a few meters away from him, and the wolf knew where he was going next. With a renewed focus he moved over to it and started sliding down it, his hands leaving bloodstains and claw marks on the wood.
That was all fine, though. If it were up to him, not one piece of prey would live to see it.
Notes:
so it turns out i am still able to write an entire chapter in a day, wheeeeeeeee
Chapter 91: Arc 3 - 15
Summary:
Choices, impossible choices.
Notes:
While writing this chapter I found out I made a copying error when uploading chapter 85. Given that this chapter starts where that chapter ends, I would recommend rereading that chapter before continuing on.
And now for the warnings! This chapter contains a bunch of violence spread throughout and some minor mentions of blood.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
His breathing slowed as he pulled back the string of his bow. The words of his admin still spooked through his head, and Joe knew what the fastest way to get Python out of his current predicament was. A simple arrow to the heart would probably be enough to make him respawn, judging by the way he looked, but the poet found himself unable to let the arrow fly.
He didn’t want to have to kill his friend, not when there was so much uncertainty. He knew Evil X had died, and if he knew… Best to assume their enemy did so to. Best to assume they had taken steps. Best to assume respawn was no longer safe. And if the spider had left Python right there, almost gift-wrapped for them to find… Joe couldn’t help but feel like it was a trap. It had to be a trap.
The question was simply whether they would kill Python in order to get to the rest of their friends. Was it acceptable to kill him, if it meant Wels, Iskall, Ren, and Scar would be saved? Wasn’t that simply the trolley problem, except with some extra steps? Well, actually, no, it wasn’t. Unlike in said problem, the consequences of actions weren’t clear, and there could well be other ways around it. Would saving Python really mean condemning the others in this scenario, or was the apparent choice that had been presented to them not really a choice? And if they went through with it, and killed him instead, who was to say that they wouldn’t be presented with much the same choice, except with someone different wrapped in spider silk that time? Who was to say this wasn’t simply a test to see how far they would go to take that spidery bastard down?
The bow shook in his hands, his shoulders straining. He couldn’t do this. There was too much they didn’t know, too much risk in the whole thing. His eyes flicked over to the spider sitting next to Python, and Joe realised that if he missed, or if a single arrow weren’t enough, the spider would finish the job for him. That alone was enough to firmly push him into the mindset that killing Python was a bad idea.
“Joe, what are you waiting for, take the shot!” Doc growled, and next to him, Cleo was already raising her crossbow to do it if he didn’t. Still, he couldn’t. This was wrong, so wrong, it was too risky. That being said, though… He could win them some time. He could do everything he could to keep Python save from the spiders.
The poet slightly shifted his aim, the arrow now pointed straight at the arachnid in the web.
“Cleo, the spider!” he spoke hurriedly, before letting go of the bowstring. It flew through the air, over the first line of spiders, curving up and then curving down again. A crossbow bolt followed suit, and within half a second of each other they bored their way through the spider’s carapace. The thing shuddered once and then died, its mandibles still twitching on Python’s neck. The snake man himself seemed to be shaking more, now, although he was also weakly moving his head around, as though he was trying to figure out where the voices of his friends were coming from.
Then all hell broke loose. The spiders, that had seemingly been waiting for something to happen, started rushing forwards for the most part, although the poet could also see quite a few that had decided to go in the exact opposite direction, into the webs, towards their prisoner.
“No! Joe, what the heck, that wasn’t the plan! Shoot him, dammit!” Doc didn’t seem amused in the slightest as he started fending off the spiders, slowly but surely advancing forwards again.
“Doc, put on your thinking cap. This has to be a trap!” he yelled back, already notching another arrow, aiming it for the spiders going towards Python. Not that he had a bunch of time to do so, but he still took a moment to ensure each of his arrows at the very least went more or less in the correct direction. It was more about hitting them than hitting them in the spot that was the most effective. And it was even more about not hitting his friends in the back. Joe doubted they would like that.
The cyborg didn’t respond except for letting out an annoyed hiss and continued skewering the spiders in front of him. Unlike the spiders they had come across earlier, though, these needed a little bit more than a single strike with a sword or trident or arrow to actually die. These were larger, and seemingly stronger too. Joe didn’t like it in the slightest, these monsters, but there was little he could do about it except taking them all down. Or, at the very least, enough of them to get his friends back.
The raid party advanced slowly, and it became more and more difficult to snipe the spiders away before they could bite or hurt Python. There was simply too many of them, and that was even disregarding the spiders that slipped past the snake man, moving their way through and around the webs to go to whatever was at the end of the hallway. If his assumptions were correct, though, they would find their captured friends there, in a cell of sorts if Jevin’s information was correct. Joe didn’t want to think about what those spiders would be able to do to his friends while they couldn’t stop them. He really didn’t want to.
His arrows kept flying, as did Cleo’s bolts, and the floor was littered with impaled spider corpses, some still twitching, but at some point, his quiver simply ran out, despite him having brought a few stacks. Joe stood staring at the empty quiver for a single moment, before groaning and switching it out for a sword. It was a shame it had come to it, but there was little he could do about it besides just diving in sword-first and hoping for the best.
Joe found himself slipping in line between Doc and Keralis, taking a moment to find the flow of combat before joining in in the dance of blades and mandibles. Steps forwards, steps backwards, little bits at a time, almost like following the movements of a fiery salsa while his sword was like a conductor’s baton. It dictated the rhythm of his steps and those of his opponents, although the latter only followed part of it. For the rest, the spiders just made their own melody, keeping to a whole different measure than him. Certainly, it was a polyrhythm that worked beautifully at times, but most of the time it just clashed in a cacophony of breaking carapace and shrieking metal.
It was all he could do to remain in flow with it all, never losing his rhythm, stepping and fighting and pushing forwards, ever forwards. Python was close, so close Joe could almost reach out and touch him, but that wasn’t good enough. Still, being this close he felt the need to still try and console him, to let him know this all would be over soon.
“Don’t worry, Python, we’re here to get you out! Just hang on tight while we clear the spiders about,” the poet spoke, and he could see how the snake man responded, shivering just a little bit less now.
Losing his focus there was, admittedly, not the best idea he had ever had. His dance partners seemed to agree on that, making use of his lapse in concentration to slip past his defences, and he felt them trying to bite in his legs, their mandibles pressing against his diamond leggings, and in some cases, around them. He felt those sharp things sink into his skin, and he couldn’t help but wince as he hit the spiders away from himself.
Joe wasn’t the only one encountering such issues, though. He could see Zedaph shaking on his legs as he desperately tried to get a spider to let go of his shield-arm, while Impulse looked ever so slightly green, as though he wanted nothing more than to just puke right there and then. He could see blood on him too, both his own and that of spiders, and they weren’t even fighting the really big arachnids behind Python yet.
The poet started to realise that this mission was potentially going to fail. Certainly, they still had potions to help them, but once those ran out… He briefly glanced over at Doc, who was still blendering his way forwards, seemingly ignoring the various places where blood ran over his arms and legs. He didn’t show any sign of stopping just yet, his gaze set on the end of the hallway as though that was the only thing that mattered.
Their shield wall finally reached the web Python was stuck in, and for the shortest moment, it seemed as though Doc was going to just impale the man, to get him out of there, to make him respawn. At the last moment, however, he sidestepped, letting his trident tear through the web to the sides of the snake man, making him fall to the ground. It was all Joe could do to catch him before he actually hit the floor.
“I got him!” he exclaimed, leaving his place in the line in order to drag Python backwards a little, to get him somewhere that was a tiny bit safer.
“Get him back on his feet, now,” the cyborg snapped, seemingly unhappy with the way things were going, and Joe had to bite his tongue to not make a witty retort about manners and how to talk to friends. This was simply not the time for that kind of thing.
He used his sword to gently sever the various bits of webbing wrapped around the man, but the poet already knew that there was no way he was going to be able to also take away the metal restraints. It would just have to do, worst case someone would just have to carry Python out. As he worked, Joe tried very hard to ignore the shape of Python’s hands, despite it making him sick to his core. Or well, maybe not despite it, but because of it. He needed to focus, to really focus in order to make all of this go well, he couldn’t let anger cloud his judgement.
“Howdy, Python. Joe Hills here, saving people as I always do. It’s going to be alright; we’ve got you now. We’re going to bring you home, that’s the plan, anyhow,” he spoke, raising his voice just high enough to be audible to Python as he continued removing webbing. The man was shaking under his hands, but wasn’t actively working with or against him, which pained the poet just a little bit.
Just what did that monster do to him?
“Hold still if you can, please. That way, removing that blindfold is gonna be a total breeze.” This time he could see some actual response as Python froze in place, and Joe carefully slipped his fingers underneath the webbing before cutting through it with his sword. All the while, he kept chatting, saying what he was doing and making some small compliments towards the snake man for how well he was doing and how he just had to keep it up for a little bit longer.
His eyes flicked towards the battle just paces away from him a few times, just to make sure he was still in the clear. He could see Cleo standing in the line now too, on the other side of Doc, and it looked like they were no longer progressing as fast as they had done before. Zedaph was drinking from a potion, and he could see a few more empty bottles laying just behind the line.
This isn’t good in the slightest. Maybe… maybe we should fall back.
Still, he worked on, first removing the blindfold and then the gag. It was painful to look at his friend’s face, the spark in his eyes all but gone. He looked as though the slightest bit of damage could push him over the edge of respawn, and what was worse, he looked as though he wouldn’t even mind. Joe didn’t quite like that, already digging through his inventory in search for his own few potion bottles. Surely it would be fine if he fed a regen potion and a health potion to Python. Surely he needed it more than the poet himself did.
He pulled out the cork of the regen potion with his teeth, bringing it to Python’s mouth and gently tilting his head forwards in order for the snake man to drink it.
“There you go, this should help you. It’ll help you through.”
Python did indeed start drinking the potion, little sips at a time, but much as he wanted to tell him to speed up, Joe knew that that was probably a bad idea. After all, choking on the very thing that was supposed to save you was quite the ironic idea. Not even when Tango yelled out about not being able to hold the line much longer did the poet change what he was doing, although it did make him reconsider feeding Python both potions already.
The same kind of complaint was coming from Impulse too, and not long after from the others in their little line too. Doc seemed to be the only one still going for it, despite being wounded, despite the amount of large spiders that were still between them and their goal.
Joe blinked, and he realised that the call to retreat wasn’t going to come from the cyborg. Someone had to take up that role because the way things were going now… This wasn’t going to end well. His attention shifted over to Python once more. This was going to be difficult.
“We need to fall back, y’all! Tactical retreat, towards the entrance hall!” he shouted out nonetheless, helping Python up to his feet. That didn’t go too well, though, so he just decided to go and pick him up instead. Was it the best way of doing things? Probably not, but it as the only way he could think of right there and then.
“Joe, I’m not leaving Scar and Wels here! Not again! Iskall and Ren too, man, are we really just going to ignore them after finally coming this close to saving them?” Doc bit back, showing no sign in the slightest of retreating.
“Doc, you’re not going to save anyone if you’re dead! Look at us, man, we’re barely holding on, we need to get out, regroup, and try again later, otherwise we’re all just gonna die!” Tango called out as he fended off a particularly large spider. A chorus of Hermits fell in with him, and finally, finally, Doc sighed, setting a tentative step backwards. Joe exhaled, letting go of a part of the tension he had been holding. This was going to work out. He hoped. The cyborg now actually started coordinating the retreat, which cleared the poet up to think about their actual exit plan.
Originally, the plan had been to exit via the portal at the back of the lair. Now, though… Joe wasn’t so sure whether that was the right plan. It felt too easy. Too expected. Nothing bad had happened when they had freed Python and that still wasn’t sitting entirely right with him, and the poet knew that this was most definitely not the moment to let his guard down. Besides, with the amount of messing with the laws of reality that Arachne had done, he didn’t believe they wouldn’t portal trap them. While the same thing could be said about the fountain on the main End island, Joe still trusted a portal that had been part of the world a whole lot more than a portal made by their literal enemy.
The question was now how he would convince the rest of the raid party of this, to make them see that the time spent flying would be well worth it if it meant emerging back in the Overworld in the location they expected to come out, instead of in an enemy trap. Especially since most of them were in various stages of being wounded.
That being said, it all didn’t matter if they didn’t somehow managed to get out of the lair in the first place. Joe moved back down the hallway, back the way they came, scouting ahead to see if they were still in the clear. He assumed they were, given that they had made sure to double-check the rooms they had passed, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
Much to his relief, though, the only spiders he could see in the hallways were the dead ones they had left as the raid party had advanced. In his arms, Python was shaking again, quietly staring forwards but not really seeing or saying anything. It worried Joe, and he found himself talking to his friend, his voice higher in pitch than usual, and slightly panicked too. Still, it grounded him, and he could only hope that it would do some good for Python as well to know his friends were there for him and that all would be well. Perhaps it was more a hope than a promise, at that point, but the poet didn’t want to think about that too much. He just needed everyone to get out of there.
The retreat itself was a slow one, a very slow one, and at multiple times it seemed like things were going to get really hairy as the spiders advanced, but the raid party held on, stepping back as one, moving through the hallways, and back up the stairs. The further they came, though, the less the spiders actually attacked them, and it was more as though they were driving them out of the lair instead. Joe didn’t trust it in the slightest, still but he did appreciate it that the spiders at the very least had the courtesy to not attack an obviously retreating enemy. Exactly what motivated them to do so remained a mystery to him, but not every mystery needed to be solved the instant it was uncovered.
The raid party finally worked their way out of the small building, and Keralis slammed the door shut once the last of them had gone through.
“Alright, core concept: we don’t take the portal over there and fly back instead. I don’t trust it, just thinking about it sets of the warning bells in my head,” Joe said, setting Python down against the wall and stretching his arms for a bit.
“I agree. That bastard wasn’t here, but it sure looked like they knew we were coming. If I was in that position, I sure as hell would trap the most likely exit, just in case whatever else I had set up would fail,” Cleo shrugged, and Keralis’ eyes widened just a little bit further.
“Whoa, that’s so smart! I would’ve just gone through there, but now that you say that… Yeah. Let’s not.”
Slowly but surely, the others nodded in agreement, and Cleo started switching out her chestplate for her elytra. The rest of the raid party followed suit, even being relatively efficient about it all. Those that had already finished the switch went and helped those that hadn’t, and Impulse and Zedaph were strapping a spare elytra to Python’s back too.
Joe oversaw it all, making sure those that needed it drank a potion before they left, but most of his worries were still with how they were going to get Python towards the main End island. He didn’t see the man firing his own rockets, and those were quite essential to flying, so a few of them were probably going to need to drag him along as though they were doing some wild kind of horizontal skydiving. Certainly, it wasn’t the best solution, but it was also not the best situation to be in, so the poet reckoned this would do. For now, at least.
Minutes later, they were all more or less ready to leave, standing on the edge of the island, rockets in their hands. Python was flanked by Tango and Impulse, while Zedaph danced around them, making sure they had enough rockets for the trip back. It was going to be a close one, but it should be possible.
And then, with that out of the way too, Joe jumped off the edge, his communicator opened in coordinate view as he started leading the raid party back home.
Notes:
200k baby! Just in time for the new year!
Chapter 92: Arc 3 - 16
Summary:
Protect what you have, or save what you don't?
Notes:
TW for blunt force trauma to the head, first one in the paragraph starting with "He raised his pick higher", and a second time in the paragraph starting with "Instead, he raised his pickaxe"
TW for choking, starting at "the depressingly early point where his luck ran out." and spanning over the rest of the perspective.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The flesh of her neck stitched back together before his very eyes. It wasn’t the fastest process, not in the slightest, and plenty of blood slipped between his fingers as the old man tried to hold the fighter’s wound closed. She seemed to be on the verge of panicking, breathing quickly and her eyes restlessly searching around.
“It’s okay, kiddo, they can’t hurt you anymore. I gotcha,” he said, his voice gruff but filled with good intent. He took her hand in his, and False squeezed it about as hard as she could. TFC didn’t mind. He knew that whatever he felt, it was probably a whole lot less painful than what she was going through.
That this position wasn’t the best they could be in was not something he was ignoring, but he also knew that he had positioned himself between False and any danger. At least, between her and Not Iskall. Where Not Ren had gone, he wasn’t particularly sure about, and that was… Well. It was quite problematic to have him running around his vault unchecked. Still, splitting up the small group of people that had stayed home even further, in order to hunt him down and catch him, was probably not a good idea either. They simply didn’t have enough people to do so.
He looked over his shoulder briefly, to see how Stress was holding up. He wasn’t too sure what he had been expecting, but she was being driven further and further back, still blocking his various hits by some miracle. The question wasn’t even if a blow would slip past her defences, but when. And with Jevin still on the ground, and the others that were still in the vault being nowhere in sight… TFC knew what he had to do.
He moved his hand up, gently pressing False’s hand against her wound with a pained expression on his face. She looked at him, partially confused, partially afraid.
“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice heartbreakingly small. “Please don’t leave me alone, I don’t want to be alone, please, TFC…”
The old man patted the fighter on the shoulder before grasping the handle of his trusty pickaxe and standing up.
“I won’t be far. I’m just gonna make sure that that numbnuts o’er there doesn’t do something stupid,” he responded, a hearty chuckle on his lips despite the circumstances. “Stay here and get some energy back, alright? You did well, it’s my turn now.”
False looked as though she wanted to say something in return but couldn’t quite find the words, and TFC didn’t wait for her to do so. The choice he was making didn’t feel good, but then again, not having made it would have felt just as bad. He started moving towards Not Iskall, slow at first, but picking up momentum the further he went. He had his pickaxe held diagonally backwards, as though he was between two hits with the thing and he was running straight for a pile of ore.
In theory, what he was going to try was simple. He just needed to knock Not Iskall out, like he had helped knock Biffa out before. In practice, however… he needed to be lucky. TFC very briefly found eye contact with Stress, who was just about standing with her back against a wall, as False had done just moments earlier.
It’s gonna end differently this time, I’ll make sure of that.
He raised his pick higher just as he came into range of Not Iskall, but instead of swinging it in his direction with the point forwards, he used the side as though it was a very rough hammer. It clanked into contact with his opponent’s helmet, and for a short moment, he saw the swede stagger in his place, looking around in confusion and anger as to what had just happened. TFC used the time to raise his pickaxe once more, while Stress made use of the moment to start pushing Not Iskall back again and to actually attack him for the first time, although it was still clear she was holding back, not wanting to hurt one of her closest friends despite him clearly having a different opinion on that.
Unlike with Biffa, the old man’s second swing actually hit too, colliding hard with Not Iskall’s shoulder. Hard enough that TFC was certain he heard something cracking and snapping, hard enough that Not Iskall dropped his sword. Before he could kick it away, though, the ice queen had already done so.
It didn’t mean the swede was done fighting, though. Now he was simply punching with his non-wounded arm, as well as kicking whenever someone got in his range. Given that he was still wearing spiky gauntlets and boots, those attacks weren’t any less dangerous than the sword had been. The main difference now was the range. TFC and Stress could stand about half a meter further away than the swede needed in order to actually be able to hit someone, and that was a nice change of pace.
Still, it wasn’t enough. Had they had rope, they would have been able to just tie Not Iskall up and move him to a cell afterwards, but as things were right now, they either needed to force him into a room and lock it behind him, or they needed to knock him out and then move him. One of those two scenarios was a whole lot less difficult than the other, and TFC was not about to go and properly weight the pros and cons of the two approaches.
Instead, he raised his pickaxe once more, aimed higher this time, like he had the first time. It came down with another harsh clank and Not Iskall stumbled to his knees, swaying just a little bit before falling over face-first.
TFC was barely panting as he stood there, but the same could not be said for Stress, who had been going at it for a little bit longer than he had.
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” he said, looking at the barely moving body. His eyes moved from Stress to Jevin to False and then back to Not Iskall, before settling on the ice queen once more. “Do you have an ender chest on you? Or some rope?”
For a moment, she blinked, seemingly not having processed what had happened just yet.
“I fink so, luv, lemme have a lil’ look!”
While she was rummaging through her inventory, TFC took out his communicator, opening it up to group chat. There had been no new messages after that from ‘Xisuma’, which was a good thing. Then he started typing a few simple updates for those who cared.
<TinFoilChef> Iskall’s been taken down. Ren’s still at large, we lost him.
Xisuma blinked as he saw the message roll in, putting the sword he had been polishing to the side and quickly refocussing on the video feeds in front of him. He could probably figure out where Ren was before he could do real damage if he could just find the right feed. The admin switched between the various camera’s in the bunker as fast as he could, briefly checking each one for movement before continuing on.
The first movement he saw was actually from the camera nearest to the portal, where he could just about see four people tying up a fifth, as well as a few of them bandaging each other. While it was good to see that the message had indeed originated from TFC, it wasn’t the thing he was most worried about right there and then. No, Xisuma’s current issue was very much Ren.
And so he flicked through to the next channel, the next, one further, on and on and on until- wait, back one channel, was that…? As he refocussed on the feed, he could indeed see someone stalking through the hallways, someone that moved around sniffing the air at every intersection. Almost like a dog would do if it were tracking a scent.
It had to be Ren. It simply had to be. Still, he looked more feral than he usually did, and even those few times Xisuma had seen him returning from some full moon trips, Ren hadn’t seemed this driven by instinct. It made the admin worry, and even more so when the camera properly captured his face, with those glowing green eyes and veins that snaked underneath his skin. Sure, he had seen it on Biffa, earlier, but it was still a slap to the face to see such a clear sign of that spidery bastard’s influence on one of his friends.
Still, all that worry was eclipsed by what he saw next: The location of the camera. He didn’t need a map to know where that specific hallway would lead. He didn’t need to ask to know who Ren would find there, completely alone and defenceless.
“Cub!” he exclaimed, already kicking himself off of his chair, and running out of the room. The capitalist was a sitting duck right there and then. He didn’t even know whether or not he had come to yet, and if that was the case… The poor guy wouldn’t even be able to call for help.
Xisuma was hell-bent on not losing someone else. Not after everything. Not after he had just sent out a raid party to save those that had been taken before. A raid party that apparently wouldn’t be bringing everyone back, given that Iskall and Ren were already in the bunker, but still. The admin refused to have that be necessary again. It simply wouldn’t do.
And so he found himself running through the corridors, desperately hoping he would still be on time. He was lucky that the beacon room was relatively close by, but he also knew that Ren already was closer than him. Then again, that was partially negated by the admin knowing the route and the wolf apparently not doing so, and as such, it was going to be a very close call.
The admin shoved aside the bickering bits of logic in his mind in order to focus on what was happening. He could theorise over who would get to Cub first until eternity, but the only way to find out was to actually go there and see for himself. And then hope he would be the first to get there, and if he weren’t… Well. Xisuma just assumed that he was going to have to fight. Good thing he had just been polishing his sword, that thing would be ever so slightly sharper now.
His hand went to his hip to grab it, and then immediately to his forehead when he realised it wasn’t there.
No, no, why do I always derp at these kinds of moments? When did I…? It’s still on the desk, isn’t it? Oh well, it’s too late to go back and grab it now, that ship has sailed.
He turned around the last corner, just in time to see someone disappearing through the door of the beacon room. The glimpse of armour told him exactly who it was, and internally Xisuma was already trying to figure out how he was going to take him down without weaponry and without outright killing him. There was no clear strategy to it, except maybe luring Ren along, back to either the video room or the portal, where the others were.
The admin dove into the beacon room too, just in time to see Ren stalking up to Cub, his torso bent downwards, ready to pounce. Xisuma knew he had to do something, anything, else Cub was a dead man.
“Ren!” he called out instinctively, and for a second, it looked as though the other man hadn’t heard. Then he turned around, making direct eye contact before sniffing the air once more.
“Worldshaper…” he growled back, and before Xisuma could respond, the wolf had already kicked off, jumping through the air, much farther than people were usually capable of. It caught him by surprise, and even more so when he felt hands colliding with his shoulders and he was pushed down.
He didn’t have enough time to respond before his back landed on the ground and he felt Ren’s weight pinning him down. From this close, he could definitely see how his features had warped to more resemble an actual wolf, with a slightly elongated jaw and some actual places where more hair grew than before, almost like the beginnings of a fur coat. His teeth looked a whole lot sharper too, as did his nails.
“This isn’t you, man! You have to see that too, don’t you?” he started as he tried to get out from under the wolf, who just seemed to growl in response. “If there’s any bit of the old Ren still in there, then please, push through! I know you can do it, go and take back control!”
For the shortest of moments, the growling actually stopped, and Xisuma would swear he saw the green glow in Ren’s eyes dim for a split second. Then it all came back full force, and while the wolf hadn’t actually hurt him up until that point, this seemed to be the depressingly early point where his luck ran out.
Xisuma felt one sharp set of claws grab him around his neck, while he felt and heard how Ren tried to take off his helmet. The admin struggled to stop it, trying to kick and punch and do everything he could, but every bit of resistance was met with sharp nails digging into the tender flesh of his neck, as well as a crushing feeling on his windpipe.
It didn’t take long for him to start struggling for air instead of struggling to get free. Still, he was choking out pleas to Ren, to hopefully get him back to his senses, but it was all to no avail. The admin heard the tell-tale clicks of his helmet’s seals unlatching, and he only had the time to take one last proper breath before his visor and its wonderfully thin air were ripped away from his face.
Xisuma saw how his vision started to turn black all along the edges as Ren put more pressure on his neck, the wolf’s hot breath rolling over his face in almost gleeful anticipation.
“Ren… no-“ he chocked, just before the lack of oxygen and properly breathable air became too much to bear. He stopped feeling most of his body, and his muscles unclenched. Most of his vision was filled with black spots by then, and he was only vaguely aware of being lifted up from the ground. Then the world turned upside down as he felt a spiky something pressing against the diamond plating on his stomach, and it took a moment longer to realise Ren must have put him over his shoulder.
It cost him a monumental effort to lift up his head enough to be able to see into the room. For the shortest moment, it seemed as though a pair of dark eyes looked right back at him from the top of the beacon pyramid. Perhaps there was a mouth too, opened to make some kind of sound. Xisuma just about managed to stretch out his hand to the person.
And then he was taken by the blissful nothingness of unconsciousness.
Notes:
"Two chapters? In less than a day? What the hell?"
I understand you might have questions. They can all be answered by "I set myself some challenges for the month of December", and with this chapter, I've finished both of my challenges.
So uh, yeah, happy new year!
Chapter Text
He meticulously ordered the various shulker boxes on the ground, making sure that those containing similar types of blocks stood side by side, with stairs and slabs of the same material not far away. It was good to know what he had, what he could work with, especially knowing that only the best of the best would be good enough for his possessor. After all, they had chosen him specifically for this task, which brought him great joy, and he was not about to disappoint them. That simply would not do.
So he continued sorting out the shulkers, double-checking he had everything before even starting. A throne, they had demanded. Something worthy of their station. He had looked around, but there wasn’t really a place where such a thing could properly be constructed, not if he wanted to make it as grand as they deserved.
If there’s no such place, then why don’t I make one? Tear out part of the side of this volcano, build up the throne, and then terraform the side to be closed again. I could do that. I have the skills, and there are plenty of resources here, if I know where to look.
For a short moment he blinked, trying to judge whether the plan in his thoughts would work out. It certainly seemed viable, and logical too. And why would he have to keep this build confined to what was already there, when the whole point of it was to be a monument of change, the seat of power from which his possessor would rule and alter the world to be better?
He nodded to himself and then got to work scouting out a slightly better location to be building at, keeping in mind that the back wall would still go away. It wasn’t like gravity was going to care, for the most part.
In the end, he settled for a bit of terrain not too far from the portal. It was going to need quite some work, but he was certain he could make it all fit. And so, he painstakingly moved his boxes closer, making a short bow to his master when he passed in front of them, but not really looking at what they were doing. That was none of his concern. He also very much ignored the suited man laying on the ground next to the web, despite the recognition that sparked inside of him, despite how he seemed to say something at him.
It didn’t matter. Why would he concern himself with what a fly might have to say? Besides, he had a task to do!
He took out a stack of endstone and started laying down some scaffolding to work with, while taking inventory of what needed to be done in order to complete his project. He was going to need to lay down a flooring, at the very least, he needed to tear out the wall of the volcano, he needed to actually figure out a design for the throne, he needed to build said design and then he needed to make sure the back wall looked good again. At the very least it helped that he had some more or less decent groundwork to work with, although he would be more than happy to… redecorate once he was done with his current task. This place could use some improvements.
He felt something pushing against his consciousness, something that wasn’t quite happy with what he was thinking. Something that definitely wanted to share its displeasure at what was going on. Something that disappeared about as quickly as it had appeared, as though it was being hushed away.
It was strange, and it threw him off his rhythm for just a moment. Then he refocussed. The thought was gone, and whatever presence had caused it was gone with it, so he didn’t see why he would have to do anything with it. He was just going to continue building. Or start, really.
First off, scaffolding. It didn’t entirely matter where that would go, as he would probably need to move it around quite a bit during construction, so he didn’t particularly think it through, and mostly just focussed on setting up some rudimentary bits for now. He couldn’t do much more until after he had put in the flooring anyway.
So that was what he was going to do next. It was a shame that there wasn’t some kind of dark green and black material to make a nice and smooth floor out of, but there was little to be done about it. And even then, the question was whether he should want to. If he were to make the entire floor out of something like that, and have the same black and green coming back basically everywhere else, chances were quite high that the whole place just wouldn’t look interesting enough. It needed a pop of colour, some kind of contrast.
Blue, perhaps? It’s a cool colour, like green.
Hmm… No, that won’t do. Cyan could match, though that might be a little bit too drab.
White and green inlay on a black flooring could be good.
Yeah, that would work. White doesn’t clash with the rest of the colour scheme. Hmm, let’s see…
He walked to the shulker boxes, knowing full well that he was going to have to improvise things more than a little. He had the colours, he knew that much, the question was just how he was going to arrange them, and how he could make it smooth. He could set shards into clay and fire that into glazed terracotta, but that was going to take a while.
Or he could take a shortcut, and instead of firing his floor blocks, he could just pour molten glass over it and let it harden. That would be nice and smooth, and it was probably a lot easier to clean than an uncovered mosaic. It probably wasn’t going to be too hard to do that either. He was just going to have to heat up the floor from below so the glass on top of it would stay at least a little bit malleable, and then melt sand down in a bucket so he could pour it out. It sounded doable enough.
With a content nod to himself he got to work, first ripping out the rickety wooden bridging that somehow had managed to not be on fire despite the fact that it had been placed inside an active volcano. Perhaps the world itself hadn’t been informed about the illogicality of the situation, but he was certainly not the one that was going to complain about it.
In any case, he took down the structure that had been in the way before, before starting to put down the clay. At first, he had started putting it a little bit above the ground, so he could later make fires underneath it to heat it up. Then he remembered that the current underground was quite warm as well, probably warm enough for his purposes.
I’ll just throw water over the top of the glass to cool it down enough to set, otherwise that might just not happen. A fire can be quelled, the heat from a volcano… not so much.
And with that last problem out of the way, he continued building. It went quick at first, when all he had to do was to just reduce quite a few bits of existing material down to shards, then slow when he had to figure out a pattern to lay them in, and then even slower when he had to go around and actually gently push the shards into the clay in the right pattern. That being said, good work required time to be put into it, and nothing but the best would do for his Possessor. He knew that, and he was more than okay with that.
On and on he worked, meticulously adding bits and pieces of the pattern until the imagery he had in his mind was laid into the floor in front of him. It featured a large, stylised cobweb spanning the entire room, on a backdrop of black that became greener towards the centre, almost like a sun radiating outwards. In his mind it symbolised the centre from which his Possessor’s might shone, casting the light of good leadership over the otherwise dark and bleak world. That, and gradients just looked a whole lot nicer than a floor in one flat colour.
With that out of the way, though, it meant that it was time for the next part, namely, to go and melt down some sand into glass. He had spotted a few furnaces already, and he was relatively sure he had some buckets in his boxes of materials too, so it shouldn’t in the slightest be a problem. It was mostly just going to be repetitive work, more so than the patterning had been. Still, it needed to be done, and as such he scooped a few buckets full of sand, put them into the furnace, added a bunch of coal to the bottom, lit it on fire, and walked away to go and build some additional scaffolding. For this, it was probably useful to have some walkways that were just a little bit above the flooring, so he could properly pour the glass out everywhere without either working himself into a corner or accidentally stepping in hot molten sand. Both of those outcomes would be undesirable.
By the time he got back to the furnaces, the sand had indeed turned into glass, glowing a bright golden orange. It flowed around almost like honey, but that shouldn’t be too much of an issue. It just meant he had more control over the stuff once he actually got to pouring it, which he could only see as a good thing. More control meant a neater end product, generally.
And so, he poured bucket after bucket of glass over his mosaic, the first part of his masterpiece slowly taking on its final form. As he had expected before, the glass didn’t quite cool down all the way, instead settling snugly over the various ridges and dips in the mosaic until the surface was smooth and even. It didn’t glow anymore, but he could feel the heat still radiating from it from where he stood on his scaffolding.
When the entire surface was covered, he went and got a bucket of water to cool it down. The cold salt water of the sea around the volcano would do wonders, he reckoned. After all, the colder the water he cooled with, the faster it would go, right?
Yes, that’s how that works. A shame there’s no ice to cool the water even further, but this will work.
He nodded to himself as he carried the bucket up the scaffolding, moving over to the spot right in the centre. It would flow in all directions from there, and it would probably cover most if not all of the floor. And hey, it wasn’t like the ocean would run out of water if he had to go and grab a few more buckets, so even if it didn’t cover all, it wouldn’t really be an issue.
A completely different issue arose, however, when he actually poured out the water. It sizzled at first, with steam rising up quickly. Then the sizzling got overtaken by a different sound. Cracking. Rapid, violent cracking, spreading out over the surface of the glass as it broke, and not in a pretty way either. Not in a way that looked intentional, at the very least, which could have saved it, possibly. Instead it was just… Uneven. Shards of glass stuck upwards in places, and just laid flat in others. Some bits were large, while other places looked more as though the glass had just turned into a powder. The only interesting and cool thing about it was the way the mess reflected the light of the torches around, and he knew that that was not something that was going to be staying that way forever either. There were no walls yet, and he was relatively certain that an overhaul of the cave would include changing up the lighting to something that fit the aesthetic better.
He cursed under his breath as he realised he was going to have to do basically everything over, all because he didn’t think his actions through. Looking at it in hindsight, it was only logical what had happened. Rapid temperature change made materials shrink or expand, and too much change… well. That tended to break things.
The plan needs to be thought out a little better next time. There has to be a different way to do this, that doesn’t include everything breaking at the last step.
Hmmm… I could go back to the original plan of preparing the clay and the mosaic, and then firing it in a furnace. It takes a while, but the chance of that going wrong is a lot lower.
With a sigh, he looked down on the floor. Maybe it was still partly salvageable. Maybe he could still carefully get rid of the glass, and then fire bits of the floor at a time.
Or he could just rip it all out and start over. Somehow, though, that latter idea didn’t sound all that tempting, and with a sigh he came down from the scaffolding to start clearing up the mess he had made.
Ugh. Good work sure does cost time.
Notes:
yes, you guys get superslow build mode. as a treat.
Chapter 94: Arc 3 - 18
Summary:
Neutralise, stabilise, realise.
Notes:
just a heads up, this chapter starts with mentions of blood and injuries, as well as (past) dismemberment. that's basically over at the paragraph starting with "His eyes drifted over"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
His various wounds felt as though they had been dipped in acid, slowly burning away and corrupting his slime. It was green, but it could just as well have been black, that’s how dark it was. It hurt, it hurt a lot, but it was only when Not Iskall dropped to the ground that he allowed himself to actually focus on it. The danger had gone, at least for now, so it was time for some healing.
The main issue right there and then was that he couldn’t actually get his hand to attach to his arm again, not while the edges were still coated with what simply had to be poison. By the way it was clouding his slime, though, it seemed like it wouldn’t be as easy as to just wash it off and be done with it. No, to solve this, he was either going to have to neutralise the poison, or he needed to just remove all slime affected by it.
Needless to say, he wasn’t too thrilled about that second option, despite knowing that he was going to need to do it for at the very least his severed hand. After all, he doubted drinking milk or another antitoxin was going to have an effect on bits of him that weren’t actually connected to him at the moment he drank it. It was morbid, but Jevin was still going to try and see it in a positive way. Had he not been made of slime, he doubted he would have been able to properly reattach his hand without respawning. That, and he had no doubt that not actually having blood vessels had saved him from a worse fate.
His eyes flickered over to False, who wasn’t having a good time in the slightest, between veins visibly having been darkened by poison, blood already having turned the bandages around her neck into a mess of red splotches, and her armour being stained a dark scarlet. There was an empty potion bottle on the ground next to her, though, and between that and the regen beacon, Jevin doubted there was a lot that could be done to help her more. The only thing he could do was just to go and fix himself somewhat. Or well, to get the things he needed in order to fix himself.
One step at a time, Jev. One step at a time.
His attention shifted again as he saw Stress run past, going to look for something, but it was only after she had left that he had gotten his brain far enough together to actually ask her to bring some milk too. Which… Well, while unfortunate, he’d be able to deal with it. There were other things he could do right there and then to make things moderately better for himself.
For example, now that he had figured out that he was going to need some milk before he could even start trying to properly reattach his hand, Jevin could focus on a few other things first. Like getting his shield off of his arm, so he could do any following steps a little easier. It was something he really should have started with, but on the other hand, it had probably been better to just have a little bit of extra protection while Not Iskall had still been up.
Now, though, it was just in the way, and he planned on making it not be. If only he could stare actual daggers at the strap that held the shield to his arm, that would make things a whole lot easier. However, with some clever moving of his legs and maybe his mouth he should be able to just-
Then Jevin stopped, bringing his stump to his forehead and sighing. Why was he making such a point out of this? He could just make his arm go a little bit slimmer, pull it out from under the strap, and just shaping it back to its normal shape again.
You would say I would actually be able to remember to use my abilities… A collar can’t stop me, so why would a stupid shield? Ugh…
With a very neutral expression he went and got his arm out, as though the slight manipulation of his slime had been his plan all along. A quick glance around told him that no one was actually paying much attention to him, though, all too busy either with their own problems or with being unconscious.
The shield clattered to the ground, and Jevin sat back for a moment, trying to think of what to do next. Getting milk seemed to be the best thing to do, both for himself and False. After that… Reattaching his hand. Getting a healing potion to kickstart his regeneration. And reporting back to Xisuma, now that this all was over. It was over, right? A feeling of unease crept up in his stomach as he looked around again, his eyes briefly resting on Not Iskall before continuing on. He grew more wary by the second, and after having made sure he hadn’t overlooked someone, he raised his voice in concern. Not because of who he saw, but rather because of who he didn’t see.
“Uh, guys? Where did Ren go? Or, well, Not Ren- ugh, you know who I mean. Where is he?”
TFC made eye contact, and Jevin was quite sure he could see unhappiness and a hint of anger spark in his eyes.
“The bastard ran off after woundin’ Falsie over there. Bet he didn’t like his odds here. I’ll comb the place after we’ve made sure that Iskall here can’t go on a rampage again.” He lightly pushed against Not Iskall’s flank with his foot as he mentioned him, but the swede didn’t respond to it at all.
“But what if he found his way towards Cub or X? Or, hell, what if he just ambushed Stress? What if-“
“Then so be it, kid! Truth is, he could be doing many different bad things right now, and there’s no way we can predict and prevent all of them. The one thing we can do, however, is making sure he doesn’t get backup.” The old man was almost growling in response, his voice a whole lot harsher all of a sudden. “Besides, if I were to go after him right now, who would protect you two knuckleheads? Y’er sitting ducks here, and I frankly doubt either of you is capable of usin’ a weapon right now!”
Jevin opened his mouth, ready to say something witty in response, but the words never actually found his lips. He knew TFC was right, on some level, but that didn’t mean he agreed with it. On the contrary, even. He knew first-hand how bad things could be for someone should they fall into Arachne’s claws, so just sitting there and letting it happen wasn’t something he felt very good about. His eyes went from his sword, which laid on the ground a few meters away, to his free hand, and he knew that the old man was right about not being able to use a weapon too. He had never quite trained in fighting with his off-hand, generally preferring the most standard way of holding a sword and a shield.
After all of this is over, I should practice it. Just in case.
It also made him realise that him going to get some milk was probably also a bad idea at that point. Not if he didn’t know where Not Ren was at that point. And given that TFC probably wouldn’t leave, and False was out of the equation for much the same reasons as himself… Well. That left Stress, as well as Xisuma, although the latter was probably busy doing admin things and monitoring the situation.
“Ugh, I hate that you’re right,” he sighed. “Could you do something for me, though? Can you text Stress to ask if she can bring a few bottles of milk? I would do so myself, but… yeah. I don’t have a communicator.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what she’s lookin’ for right now. There should be some of the stuff left, even after the various baking antics people got up to these past few days. In any case, I’ll let her know you asked for milk too.” The old man nodded as he took out his communicator, tapping away at the buttons for a bit before putting it away again. “There. I hope she gets back soon, and in one piece.”
“I hope so too, man.” With another sigh he focussed back on his situation. After the milk, the next thing on his to do list was to reattach his hand, and in order to do that, he was going to need to make sure there was no longer any poison on either side of the wound, which in his case meant cutting away the affected slime on his severed hand. It wasn’t something he particularly wanted to do, and it felt really strange to even have to consider how weird it was, but there was very little he could do right there and then to change any of it.
And so he went and picked up his sword, then collected his hand, and got to work. Jevin was careful to not have the poisoned areas of his slime touch the healthy parts for fear of spreading it further. Much as he had expected, it wasn’t a particularly easy task due to him not being used to using tools with his off-hand, combined with him not being able to actually properly hold his hand in one place, but he would make do somehow. He had to. Sure, he could probably ask TFC to do this for him, but at the same time… It felt wrong to even ask something like that of a friend, and so he just did it himself, no matter how messed up the task at hand was.
He didn’t notice it when Stress initially returned, too busy cleaning up his wounds, but he did notice it when she held a bottle of milk in front of his face.
“You’re lucky, luv. There were just two of these left, but that should be enough for now, right?” She sounded slightly worried, which Jevin understood. There was a lot of bad stuff going on, after all, and there was a lot of uncertainty as to how things would turn out. He cut off the last bit of blackened slime, and then accepted the bottle.
“Thanks, Stress. Did you give one to False already? I think she needs it more than I do.” Jevin wedged the bottle between his right arm and his chest, before trying to wiggle out the cork with his left hand.
“Not yet, but I’m going to do so next. The poor gal probably needs a bit more ‘elp than you do, right, so if you’re okay here, I’m gonna go there now,” she said, eyeing his attempts at uncorking the milk bottle. She didn’t offer help, though, which Jevin both appreciated and scorned. Appreciated, because it gave him the feeling that she believed in him successfully completing this relatively simple task. Scorned, because he just wanted to be done with the pain already and this wasn’t helping him get better.
Still, the cork plopped out before he could find the words to voice his feelings, so instead he just nodded.
“I should be, I think.” He held up the bottle to her as though he was toasting, before gulping the contents down as fast as he could manage. It was like drinking cool water on a hot day, and a cold sensation spread out from his mouth down his throat towards his stomach and out from there. It didn’t magically take away the pain, not entirely, but it did soothe it at least, slowly but surely. Jevin found himself leaning back as the milk did its job, and a sigh of relief rolled over his lips.
“Yep, that’s the stuff…” he muttered, looking over his wounds as the darkened edges slowly lightened up. He would give it a minute to take away the worst of the poison, that should make it possible to reattach his hand again, and after that he’d just go and chill on the beacon for a bit in order to heal up a little more. Jevin mostly just hoped that the slime of his hand hadn’t dehydrated too much, cause that would mean it would become stiff and difficult to bend. Not properties a hand should have, not if he wanted to be able to use it later.
Oh well. There’s very little I can do about that now. Worst case… I guess I’ll just put it in a bucket of water for a while.
When the largest part of the dark green was gone, he pressed his hand against his stump once more, willing the slime to warp and connect once more. It was a tad more difficult than the last time he had to do this, thanks to the poison in his system, and a lot more tiring too, but eventually he got it done. There were now two clear lines where his slime turned lighter and more opaque, which Jevin didn’t like, but at the very least he could still move his fingers around mostly unhindered.
His eyes drifted over to where Stress was helping False drink her milk, and he found himself sighing in relief that things seemed to be going better over there too. The fighter would bounce back just fine, he hoped. At least she was muttering some words he couldn’t quite hear, which was more than what she had been doing before.
Meanwhile, it seemed like TFC was done wrapping Not Iskall in chains and rope, armour and all. It was a little provisory, perhaps, but right there and then anything was better than nothing. Besides, most of it needed to be redone after they had dragged the swede downstairs anyways, so as long as the bonds held, it was good enough for now. That was one problem basically dealt with. Now the old man was just standing there, his eyes calmly moving around, keeping watch over that segment of hallway, just in case Not Ren decided to return. It made Jevin feel at the very least a little bit safer.
At the same time, though, he knew that others didn’t have that luxury. While he knew he should probably wait and heal a little bit more before even considering going to check on Xisuma and Cub, given that neither of them had stopped by yet, he felt himself growing restless, and the longer he sat there, the more his gut screamed that something was wrong. He couldn’t just keep sitting there, and thus he stood up, wincing when the plates of armour shifted over his wounds and when slime caught between them.
Okay, step one: adjusting the straps. Ow.
He followed up the thought with the appropriate action, tightening the buckles one by one until the armour felt like a protective shell around him instead of like a haphazard arrangement of diamond plates that were a single step away from being a windchime.
“Boy, what are you doin’? Shouldn’t you be restin’ up?” came TFC’s gruff voice, almost making Jevin jump, as though he was spotted doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.
“Probably, yeah, but… I feel like I need to go check up on X and Cub, and it’s not like I can send them a message.” He went and picked up his sword, depositing it back into its scabbard. “I’ll be careful, though, and if I come across Not Ren I’ll just turn around and find a different route, but… I really don’t feel comfortable sitting still here.” Not when I could also be preventing someone being sent to Arachne.
The old man gave him a level stare, raising an eyebrow in judgement.
“Look, if you wanna do this, I ain’t gonna stop you, go knock yourself out. All I’m sayin’ is, this is a dumb idea.”
Jevin sighed.
“Believe me, I know.”
With that, he turned on his heels and started making his way to where he had left Xisuma, not half an hour earlier. It was most logical that the admin was still there, in the video room, but he simply had to make sure.
Jevin paused before every split in the hallway, before every door, just to make sure he wouldn’t walk into a feral werewolf if he passed it. So far, though, everything seemed quiet. Too quiet, perhaps. It was as though there was no one in these hallways, and upon closer inspection, the only thing that indicated that someone had been there recently were the occasional drops of blood that hadn’t quite finished drying yet. That could still come from Not Ren having passed through there, though, and didn’t necessarily mean something had happened to Xisuma or Cub.
Still, the moment he realised he needed to take a different path than the trail of blood drops was the moment he felt some tension in his body disappear. That had to be a good sign. He sped up his pace a little, moving less careful through the hallways until he found the door to the video room. It was open, and once he looked inside, it also seemed to be empty. There was a sword laying on the table, next to the keyboard, the video on the screen still focussed on a nondescript hallway. The chair laid on its side on the ground, but that was the only sign of possible struggle there was. Jevin got a sinking feeling in his stomach.
This can’t be good. Where’s X?
He looked around once more, hoping the admin would just be hiding behind the door or something, but that didn’t seem to be the case. His stomach sunk more, and he rushed over to the screen, hoping there was some kind of clue as to what had happened on there. There was a location written in the corner of the screen, and Jevin assumed that if Xisuma had gone away from there at his own volition, it had to be caused by whatever had been on the screen. So, logically, if he figured out what the significance of that location was…
The slime man grabbed the crude bunker blueprint hanging from one of the walls, trying to match the location to a point on the map. One of the lower levels, the same one as the video room. Not too far away either, just a few hallways away. Near the…
“The beacon! Of course!” he exclaimed. “But why did he leave his sword?!” He blinked, not entirely understanding the situation for a moment. No one had died up yet as far as he knew, so either some kind of battle was still ongoing, or the admin had somehow managed to take down Not Ren without using a weapon.
Just in case the first situation was what was happening, Jevin picked up the sword and started making his way over to the beacon room, where Cub should be too. It didn’t take long for him to spot the familiar trail of blood drops, leading him towards the beacon. There were no sounds of combat, though, which somehow wasn’t all that comforting. His gut just sank deeper and deeper, hitting rock bottom when he burst through the door, sword in hand.
Xisuma’s helmet laid on the ground, thrown against a wall and forgotten.
“No!”
His eyes darted around, panic setting in further when he saw the empty bed on top of the beacon pyramid.
“No. No, no, no, not Cub too, where… CUB! XISUMA, CUB, WHERE ARE YOU GUYS?!” he shouted out, simply not caring anymore whether Not Ren could hear him. This… This was bad. Phenomenally so.
“X?! XISUMA? CUB? COME ON, YOU GOTTA BE HERE!”
Jevin ran further into the room, looking around wildly but not finding anything. Not until he climbed up the pyramid, at least, and he recognised the glint of enchanted armour behind it. It was Cub, pressing his hands against his ears, trembling slightly.
“Cub! Thank the Void you’re okay.” He quickly moved on, until he could kneel in front of the capitalist, putting a hand on his shoulder. It seemed to be enough to pull him out of whatever he was going through, as Cub looked at him, his eyes wild and slightly reddened, his lashes still wet.
“Jev, he… Ren… he was-“
“An enemy? Going feral? Yeah. We know, we got Iskall upstairs. Do you know what… Where is X?”
Pain shot over Cub’s face as he shook his head.
“There… there was nothing I could do, the world, it just spins so fast every time I try to move, and… I couldn’t stop him, Jev. I- Ren has Xisuma.”
Notes:
chapters should be coming out a little faster again now that my exam period is over, but i make no promises.
Chapter 95: Arc 3 - 19
Summary:
Oh, how the tables turn.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Their eyes glowed with magic as they followed how events unfolded in their base. Last they had checked, those pesky flies had just passed their statue, but that had been quite some time ago already. Now, though, they didn’t see anyone in the hallways. There were just heaps upon heaps of slain spiders, some already covered in the webbing that would recycle them into one last useful thing. Of course, it wasn’t the most efficient way of getting food, but it would do. It wasn’t like Arachne was going to be the one slurping it up anyway. No, if anything, that would be going to their little flies and spiders.
Speaking of which… They found another spider to look through, one near the spawn altar. What they saw was quite pleasing. Much as they had expected, the little fly they had strung up there was nowhere to be seen, and Arachne was relatively certain that he had been taken by the invaders. That wasn’t the part that made them grin, though. No, the part that made them grin was the lack of destruction and carnage leading up to the stairs down to the dungeon. It meant that none of the intruders had gone there, and thus that the other little fly remained downstairs, in their grasp. It meant that their strategic sacrifice had worked. Sure, they now had one bargaining chip less, but on the other hand, that knightly nuisance was too much of an asset to lose. He inspired and motivated the others, they had noticed that, and he openly defied them, which were both qualities that made it best for him to just be locked away until they could… convince him to change his allegiance.
How they would actually move that fly between their old and their new lair was a logistics problem they would solve later. It would probably come down to sending one or two of their little spiders to take care of that, as well as to move back some more supplies. It had to wait until they figured out the results of the mission they had sent a few of them on, though. Arachne didn’t quite have servants free to do their bidding, as both of the ones present were already building away at various projects.
As for the others… They better sent back a few little flies soon, because so far, their performance had been lacklustre to say the least. And if they arrived empty-handed, Arachne would just have to let them feel how it was done.
With one last look around through the eyes of the spider, they broke their magic, returning their senses to the there and then. Immediately, they became aware of the soft whining coming from their mole, crumpled up in a ball and visibly in pain on the ground. A glare in his general direction didn’t stop the sound, though. Arachne stood up from their web, effortlessly moving over the silk threads until they were towering over him.
“Are you hurt, little fly?” they asked, fake concern clearly dripping from their voice. That, at least, seemed to catch his attention. His head popped up from the ball of limbs, chain rattling as he did so. He looked at them warily, but he didn’t speak up, as though talking would cost him too much energy, or as though he thought the look on his face was telling enough. That, however, was not how they liked things. They bent closer to him, content that he at the very least tried to move a little bit further backwards. It made things interesting.
“I asked you something, little fly. It would be best for you to answer.” Arachne dropped whatever concern they pretended to have, instead hissing their words at the mole. He visibly recoiled, but kept his eyes at them at the very least.
“You don’t… You don’t scare me,” he tried, and they would have almost believed him, were it not for the tremors laced through his words, or the lack of energy behind what he said. Perhaps… Perhaps, with just a little push…
“Are you sure about that?” they hissed, coming even closer as he tried to crawl further backwards, away from them. At some point, though, his chain ran out, and he found himself cornered.
“C-c-completely.”
Arachne could only chuckle at this. He really believed he could trick them, or lie to them, didn’t he?
“I-I don’t think I like that l-laugh. That… That was a l-laugh, r-right?”
“It seems the little fly is nervous. Afraid. But there’s nothing to be afraid of if you just… answer… my… questions.” They came closer still, and then picked him up by the collar, his feet dangling in the air. He barely even tried kicking them in response, as though the diamond plating that still was around his legs was simply too heavy to lift for him. Still, he didn’t talk, he just grunted and whined as the poison did its damage, as the collar dug into his skin.
“Answer, little fly, or-“ they paused briefly as they became aware of the presence of one of their little spiders, one of the two they had sent out earlier. “- you will regret it. Are you hurt?” Arachne’s voice totally lacked empathy, now, clearly not caring about how he actually felt. He looked back at them, his eyes sad and tired but still containing a little spark of fight.
A spark they would snuff out before long.
Still, spark or not, he moved to answer, seemingly gathering his courage first before speaking up.
“How… How is that even a question? Y-you know what Grian did- what you made him do to me. Of course I’m hurt! Do you have more stupid questions that need answering, or- Actually, I have questions. Why did you-“
At about that point, they had enough of his blabbering. Sure, he had answered them, but the way how…
The little fly needs to be disciplined. Needs to learn his place.
Without ever losing eye contact they retracted their arm and punched him squarely in the gut. He let out a squeak as the air got knocked right out of him, and for a moment it seemed like he was actually going to shut up.
Not for long, though.
“Okay that- I think that was a bad idea. My goodness, I shouldn’t have- Bloody hell, you’re a bastard.” He sounded winded and was breathing hard, but there was still some defiance left in him. Arachne squinted at him, already pulling back their fist for another punch. How long would it take for him to get the hint? Not that they minded hitting him a whole lot, it was more that they wanted to know what news their little spider had brought.
Without thinking too much more about it, they knocked the air out of him again, which was enough to turn him into a coughing and wheezing mess.
“Silence, little fly, or I will take more than what I have so far.”
They waited for a few seconds, somewhere almost hoping he would defy them again, but luckily for him, he didn’t. Too bad, really. Arachne unceremoniously dropped the mole to the floor and turned towards their servant.
Much to their pleasure, though, he wasn’t alone. There was someone laying on the ground in front of him, clad in shimmering blue armour plates everywhere except for his head. Given how quite some locks of his brown hair had escaped his braid and how flat it looked on the sides and top, though, it seemed like the lack of helmet was a new development. Not that Arachne minded that a whole lot. They also didn’t mind the fact that he was unconscious, or the fact that he was breathing really shallowly. The latter could even be used to their advantage. After all, so far it had seemed as though choking the air out of those pesky Hermits was something that made them all to eager to accept their mark, and if someone was already having some trouble in that regard… well. That would only make it easier, now wouldn’t it?
“I spy, with my little eye… A little spider, carrying a gift. Excellent… Now, go fetch me a collar and a chain so I can put him where he belongs.”
Their servant nodded before springing to action.
“Yes sir!” he growled, as he stalked off to find the things they had asked for. It gave them a little bit of time to lift up the newest inhabitant of their web to study him from a few corners. They wondered what they could be taking as their trophy, aside from his communicator of course.
The braid? Hmm… no, I already took one of those… His armour seems good. Defining enough too. Yes, that will do.
Without another thought, they started poking around his pockets to look for his communicator. It wasn’t in there, though. There were just some obscure tools in one pouch, and for some reason another one was completely filled with tea bags. Yet another had some fruit bars and an assortment of wool thread in a variety of colours. A last one had a few shards of something blue, some shells, and what seemed like discarded shopping list.
Arachne was just about to just start stripping off the armour when their eyes fell on a little screen on his arm, neatly set into the surrounding diamond plates. It occasionally lit up as new messages came in, and a content grin spread on their mandibles.
One more puppet to control. Let’s see…
With quite some care to not actually damage the device, they started prying it out of its protective surroundings. Their collection of the things was starting to become quite large, even though they didn’t really need more than one. Especially not since they already had the communicator belonging to the Worldshaper. That being said, another one could always come in handy.
“Xisuma…? But… No, X, you can’t be here!” suddenly sounded from behind them. Panic was woven through the mole’s voice, and their grin widened as they realised what he had just said.
“What did you just call him?” they almost purred in response as they pulled out the communicator. The mole looked as though he just realised what a mistake he had made, and he was stammering a response.
“I- uh… I said… I said X. Yes. X, because- because his name is… it’s uh- Xi… Xander. Yes. Xander. He’s totally named Xander, why would you think anything else?” he nervously laughed, which turned into a coughing fit. One gaze at the back of the communicator confirmed their suspicions, and they realised that they had been tricked before.
“How interesting, then, that this bears another name. It would be in your best interest not to lie to me again.”
The blood seemed to drain from the mole’s face as he visibly deflated, a look of defeat overtaking his eyes. Arachne chuckled, before aiming their attention back at the unconscious body of the Worldshaper. Oh, how they would love to simply annihilate him right there and then, just to get rid of the problem altogether. Then again, they doubted he was so special that they couldn’t break him and make him chose their side.
Until then, though… Arachne needed to make sure he couldn’t access his magic. Their eyes flicked over to the one finished cell carved into the volcanic core, and a plan formed in their head. They simply needed to make sure he couldn’t talk nor move, not even lifting a finger. Just a simple chain would not be enough for that, but combined with some freestyle architecture and sufficient amounts of webbing… it would not be a problem in the slightest.
“You, little Worldshaper, are getting special treatment.”
Notes:
It's been a while. So uh... yeah. Uni stress, mental health issues, yada yada yada, I hope next chapter is gonna be less of an issue for me to write.
Chapter 96: Arc 3 - 20
Summary:
Find and retrieve. A misshapen pyramid of needs.
Chapter Text
The journey back to the portal had been a peaceful one, but the longer it had taken, the more he had worried whether the fountain had been trapped or otherwise highjacked. Doc supposed it was only reasonable, given that the other exit out of the place – aside from dying, of course – was probably not going to send them to a good place either, but he would still have loved it if his mind could stop with the doom thinking. After all, the raid party was going to have to exit the End in some way or another, so in the end they could only go for the option that seemed the safest, with no guarantee that it actually was.
Maybe that was why it surprised him a little bit to see the now-familiar roof of the bunker above him when his eyes blinked open once more, having dipped into the fountain on the main End island. Still, surprise or not, it was good to be back here. The cyborg got to his feet and stretched a little, looking around briefly as he readjusted to the Overworld. He didn’t have a lot of time to waste, though. Doc needed to inform Xisuma of what they had found and also of what they hadn’t found, and he needed to make sure that Python was alright.
Actually, speaking of the man, Doc couldn’t quite recall where the man had last set his spawn. Had it been in the bunker…? No, wait, the Endbusters had been taken before they had all moved in. Tower Bay, then. That was where he could be found, he was relatively sure of that.
It’s probably better to go pick him up immediately, then. Just to make sure nothing happens to him while he’s out there on his own.
Doc nodded to himself as he double-checked his equipment. Then he walked out, into the hallway that connected the various apartments of the bunker. He could see some of the other raiders emerging from other rooms, the last remains of tension still visible in their posture. Hunched shoulders, clenched jaws, hands positioned firmly on scabbards.
Tango came from the same door as Impulse and Zedaph, looking around and counting heads.
“Everyone here? Please tell me no one got stuck in transport somehow.”
The cyborg shook his head.
“Nope. Python’s spawn is somewhere else, so I’m going to pick him up. Feel free to come along, though, otherwise… Go find someone and debrief.” He already started moving towards where the Nether portal was, knowing that that would be the fastest way to get where he needed to be. He was not about to let Python be alone or any longer than he needed to be, the poor guy had been through enough. That, and he was helpless at that point, given that the raid party didn’t actually have the time nor the tools to take those metal restraints off of him. It wouldn’t take much effort for some enemy to just take the snake man back while Doc was just wasting time.
Behind him, footsteps sounded, and before too long Keralis was trotting along next to him.
“I’ll join you, Doc. Best not to go out alone these days, now is it? It would be a shame if something happened to your beautiful face, yes?” He sounded a tad worried, but Keralis hid it well behind his usual light-hearted banter.
“Sure.”
It was silent for just a short moment as they walked through the halls, headed for the portal. It was seemingly too long for Keralis, though, as he started talking once more.
“So, what are we going to do now? Cause we are going to go back to rescue the others, right? Like superheroes! I think we could be superheroes… That would be great, don’t you think, Doc?”
In response, the cyborg just hummed, his mind already back at Python. Sure, it was not good in the slightest that they hadn’t been able to save all of their friends in one go, and he somewhat hated himself for having retreated, but on the other hand… Joe had been right to give the order to do so. It was better to make sure what they had was safe first, before trying to get the others back and losing even more while doing so. A sigh rolled over his lips.
“When we go back, we should take some of those… what are they called? The potions of harming that go sploosh on the floor. The sploosh potions. Those, yes. We should take a couple of those, don’t you think? We could just toss one of those on a bunch of those meanie spiders and see what that does. Might be more useful than a sword. Actually, why didn’t we take those, hmm?”
From beside him, a pair of big eyes looked at him, and Doc sighed and cast a glance in that direction.
“I don’t know. We just… I don’t think we thought about the option. That, and basically all gunpowder we had went into the rockets, and even those were only barely enough.” He put a little bit less care and softness behind the words than was probably necessary, but it didn’t matter. To him, they were still halfway through a mission, and his brain refused to cooperate with smalltalk. It just didn’t make sense, and he felt like he needed to focus.
“Well, if- no, when we go back, we need to just… get more gunpowder from somewhere? Maybe Tango’s shop has some, or one of his farms… Yes, that would probably work.”
Doc sighed once more, happy that they had reached the ladder upwards. It was just a singular story that they needed to get up, so the little bit of a break from Keralis’ banter would not take long, but it would just have to do. He focussed his attention on grabbing the rungs one by one and climbing up, but as he did so, he couldn’t help but notice they looked different, somehow. Redder. Slightly damaged. When he stopped for a moment to take a better look, he could see that there were long grooves running across the sides, where something sharp had seemingly carved thin parallel lines into the wood. The splinters still stuck out from it, which all too clearly pointed out that the lines were not intentionally put there. Not decoratively, at least.
Worry clasped around his heart once more as he realised the red was partially in the grooves as well, which couldn’t mean a whole lot of good things except if TFC had suddenly decided to start decorating the place in the most half-hearted way ever. It was not something he expected, though.
“Uh, Doc? Everything alright up there?” Keralis tapped against his lower leg to get his attention, and he looked down at him.
“Probably not. Be on your guard, I think something bad might have happened here.”
Without giving more of an explanation, the cyborg climbed up to the point where he could step off the ladder and onto the floor, where he immediately got his trusty trident from his inventory. Better safe than sorry.
He could hear Keralis stammering something behind him, but Doc ignored it for now. Who knew where the thing that had caused the damage to the ladder was, and he would rather not miss signs of its presence. That being said, his main goal right there and then was not to make sure the bunker was safe. It was simply to get to the Nether portal, one way or another. And so he walked through the halls, slower than he had done before, ears listening out for any sound that was out of the ordinary. He thought he could hear some talking, a little bit further on, but the cyborg couldn’t completely figure out what was being said. The words were simply too hushed for that. Still, it meant at the very least that there were people there, one way or another. He picked up his pace as much as he could without making significant amounts of noise, a task that wasn’t aided by his armour, but it was the best he could do at that point.
He came closer and closer to the talking until he could peer around a corner and actually see who was there. Doc found himself sighing in relief when he recognised Stress, False, and TFC, as well as someone laying on the ground. Someone he couldn’t quite recognise, in armour that seemed… Not standard? That was perhaps the best way of putting it. It wasn’t a type of armour he had seen before, at the very least, with its points and jagged edges. Doc could also see blood on the floor, as well as small amounts of blue jelly. Kind of Jevin-blue, actually, which… Well, it didn’t bode well.
Still, the fact that at least part of the Hermits was there had to be good new, right? The cyborg walked past the corner, making sure to actually make some noise to let them know he was coming. After all, he wouldn’t quite enjoy it to get things thrown or shot at him.
“Doc? Keralis? You guys are back? We were starting to get a little worried, here,” Stress called out the moment she noticed they were there. It caused the others to look up too, except for the person on the ground, which he could now see was wrapped in an assortment of restraints.
“Yes, but we do need to keep going. Python didn’t respawn here, so we need to pick him up before something happens to him.” Somewhere, Doc had hoped that that would be enough explanation, but at the same time, he knew it would only cause more questions.
“Python? You found him, then? What about the others? What about-“ False started, her voice weak. A single glance at her was enough to shut her up, though. It only took a glance and a soft shake of his head to let her know they had failed at getting everyone back.
“Oh.”
“If it’s any consolation, we got Iskall right here,” TFC mentioned. “Something ain’t right in his head, though, the poor kid. I don’t think he recognised us.”
Doc stopped in his tracks, opening and closing his mouth a few times.
Iskall… why is he here? Were we too late? But… Python wasn’t… how did one turn, but not the other? And what about Ren?
He worried even more now, but he did his best to push that worry to the side. He had to stay on track. Had to save what he had, not worry about that what was lost.
“Okaaay… Okay. Okay. That’s… yeah. That’s certainly something. Just uh… I guess put him with Biffa or something? I’ll check his hardware when I get back. Keralis, you coming?”
The wide-eyed man, nodded, his gaze still very much aimed at False and the rather extensive amount of blood spread out over her. It was difficult to say whether his eyes had actually gone larger at the sight of it or not, but then again, did it really matter right there and then? Doc guessed it didn’t. Not enough, in any case.
“Yes! Yes, I’m… Yes. Stress, take care of Falsie, alright?”
“Sure, luv. I was already doing that anyway,” she smiled tiredly, which seemed to be enough for Keralis. The duo started moving once more, but Stress’ voice stopped them before they got too far.
“Oh, actually! Did you come across Jevin or Xisuma on your way here?” There was something in her tone that Doc didn’t really like, that pulled at his guts, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
“Not that I can say, but then again, if they’re on the lower floors, we wouldn’t have come across them anyway. I bet the rest of the raid party can help you search, though, if it’s important.”
The cyborg wished he could do more, but he had his own mission. He started walking again, Keralis following in his tracks.
“Alright! Fanks, you two, and be safe!”
He didn’t answer aside from raising a hand and waving once. Then the duo rounded the corner towards the Nether portal, and it was smooth sailing from there. No more distractions. Just the nauseating purple of the portal, and then the familiar warmth of the Nether.
Doc looked around, scanning the hub for possible dangers, but there wasn’t a whole lot to see. Some of the glass in the middle, underneath the hole to get to the higher levels of the hub, seemed to have been broken, but it was impossible to say what had caused that. Nothing he should dwell too long on. As he spotted no obvious dangers, Doc quickly walked over to the portal that would lead to tower bay. It wasn’t far, and before he knew it, he was out in the Overworld once more, albeit inside one of the quartz towers that made up Python’s part of Tower Bay. Doc looked around on the inside a little, but it seemed like the tower was deserted, with no movement being visible, not even up on the highest ledges. That probably had something to do with the sunlight filtering in through the purple windows, though.
Behind him, Keralis also stepped out of the portal, briefly bracing himself against the obsidian frame before walking further into the room.
“Oof, portal travel… I always forget how disorienting looking into those purple swirls is, and yet… I can’t help it! It’s just too beautiful!” he lamented, before pulling his sword from its scabbard.
“You doing okay there, Keralis?” Doc asked. “If so, let’s keep going. We don’t know what’s out there.”
He walked over to the iron door and punched the button at the top of the doorway. The lock clicked open, and the door swung outwards, allowing the duo access onto the square. Doc’s grip on his trident tightened slightly as he cautiously looked around for any sign of movement. It had been a while since he had last been here, and with the building speed of the Hermits that meant that most of the terrain was completely new for him, as well as some of the buildings. Sure, he recognised one or two of the quartz towers that had been there since the start, but that was about it. He wouldn’t be able to say for certain when each of the others had risen up from the ground.
It also caused the complicating factor of not actually knowing where Python’s bed was, and thus where the snake man would have spawned upon returning from the End. The cyborg vaguely remembered seeing some smaller buildings on the very edge of the peninsula, but those could very well be purely decorative. Knowing the Hermits, it could even be that there was simply a random bed placed somewhere in the middle of a pile of chests near whatever building they were working on right then. Actually, that was probably the most likely, whether Python had a bedroom or not. The trick then just simply became figuring out where his last project had been, before everything had gone down.
Hmmm… Is there a half-finished tower somewhere? Because that would probably be it. I think, at least.
His eyes scanned the surroundings once more, this time looking a little bit higher, at the towers. One of the ones in the back seemed to be missing a top, compared to the ones around it, so that was the first place he would look. Another thing Doc noticed was how some of the coloured glass windows had a fine mesh of spider silk woven over the top of them, and it made him wonder just how much of the stuff was around them, blending in with the smooth white quartz of the towers.
“Keep your weapon at the ready. Whatever spider made those might still be around,” he said, pointing it out to Keralis.
“Wooow, Doc, I didn’t see those at first! Your eyes are so good! Or are you cheating a bit, with the robot parts?” the wide-eyed man chuckled in response, trying to poke a little bit of fun at the situation. The cyborg, however, just gave him a flat stare.
There’s lives on the line… I don’t get why he thinks this is the moment for jokes.
“Let’s just keep going.”
He hugged the side of the towers, following their contours around the small square. Doc paused before each of the little alleyways between them, peering in carefully before moving on. There didn’t seem to be any spiders around, but that didn’t always mean everything, and that was no reason at all to drop his guard, not even a little bit. He even periodically looked up, just to make sure they weren’t about to get ambushed from above. The little buggers tended to do that, after all, but it seemed like none of the spiders in the area was stupid enough to try something like that in broad daylight.
Not too long later, the duo reached the unfinished tower. It seemed empty on the inside, so that wasn’t where Python’s bed was, so the next logical thing would be walking around and seeing if there was a chestmonster there. Those tended to spawn whenever someone was working on something for some time. Doc ducked into the nearest alley and went to the back of the towers, towards the river and the quartz pathway to the end of the peninsula. There were some chests out there, as far as he could see, scattered around amidst some colourful shulker boxes that almost didn’t seem to fit the white colour scheme of the towers. Still, it was a sight he was happy to see.
The cyborg sped up his pace and jogged towards it, hoping to see a familiar glimpse of red and black between the chests. Or at the very least a bed, because that would mean Python wouldn’t be too far off. However, he was sad and perhaps somewhat proud to discover that the snake man had not made it a habit to sleep near his project. Either that, or the tower wasn’t in fact the last thing he had been working on.
“Well, that’s one pile of nothing here,” Doc muttered to himself as he looked around, trying to figure out what the next logical location would be. The smaller buildings, at the end of the peninsula? Probably. Those looked like houses. Starter bases, perhaps? It was worth the try.
“Alright, he’s not here, we’re gonna try over there next.” The cyborg gestured out towards the path along the river, and Keralis nodded.
“That sounds good! Gives me a chance to uh… borrow some ideas for possible future bases. I like the detailing he’s done here, and these towers… Oooh, I want to build some nice skyscrapers at some point.” He laughed mischievously as he looked around, before walking on to the pathway. Doc just rolled his eyes.
“Just remember we’re here to actually help Python, not for something like corporate espionage. That’s more along the lines of what ConCorp would do.”
He walked after Keralis, the grip on his trident a little bit looser than it had been before. It seemed all clear here, and while he knew he probably shouldn’t relax too much, Doc couldn’t help but feel like he had earned as much after what he had gone through so far. It was good to be out in the open again, to feel the sunlight on his skin and the breeze in his hair. It was very different from the End, in its eternal state of twilight, and very different from the redstone lamp lighting in the bunker.
A soft sigh rolled over his lips while his eyes slowly surveyed the surroundings, and he could almost feel part of his worries drift away with the gentle sounds of the river streaming below him. Almost. There was still the urgency of having to get Python, of course there still was, but Tower Bay was so peaceful… It was just a really nice change of pace.
Doc got himself to refocus when the pathway ended, and they found themselves standing on a narrow street between four houses. They all seemed to have interiors, and they all had chests in them, which made it difficult to make an assumption as to which of them would actually be Python’s house. That being said, there was one simple way of making that assumption easier. Doc peered through the windows of a house on the right, then on the left, and a small grin spread on his face.
“It’s this one. Has to be. There’s so many more chests in here than in there, and stacked ones too.”
Without waiting for an answer from Keralis, he swung the door open, and when he listened well he could actually hear someone or something moving around on the inside.
“Python? Are you in here?” he called out, and a few seconds later he could hear a faint voice calling back.
“Yeah… Upstairs.”
Doc wasted no time in the slightest to run in, urged on by how frail and broken Python sounded. But hey, at the very least he was talking, which was a good thing in his book. As soon as he stopped talking, Doc’s worry would multiply tenfold. Keralis followed him a little bit later, not entirely following what was going on but being supportive anyway.
It took a few moments to locate the stairs, but once there he went up them two steps at a time until he ended up on the small landing before a door. Doc didn’t even knock before throwing it open. Python was there indeed, laying in the middle of a large bed. Too large, it seemed. Either that or the snake man just seemed too small. It seemed like he had been moving about, judging by how part of the blankets had either fallen off the side of the bed or wrapped around him.
“Python! It’s good to see you’re still- I wanted to say in one piece but that’s not quite right, so… Its good to see you.” Doc came closer, stopping at the edge of the bed. Python was just staring blankly at him, although there was a lot of hurt visible on his face. “Sorry I- I shouldn’t have been so blunt. Can I help you with those?” He awkwardly gestured to the blankets, then to the metal chains still dangling from the various metal bands around his wrists, ankles, and neck.
For a moment it seemed like the snake man wasn’t going to answer, but then he nodded tiredly, as though it all didn’t quite matter what happened next. Keralis threw one glance at it, before just climbing on the mattress next to Python and gently starting to untangle the bedsheets. Doc stepped forwards to help too, but Keralis simply waved him away.
“You go make sure this place is safe, I got this, alright?”
The cyborg was about to protest, but something in the way Keralis was staring at him just made him sigh.
“Sure. Just… make it quick, okay? I don’t think we should stay here for longer than necessary.”
His mind went back to the things that had happened the night before, but what felt like weeks ago. To the last time he had seen Scar, to him sending the landscaper to stand guard and make sure the place was secure. Just like Keralis was now doing to him. Doc knew he shouldn’t feel this fear he was feeling, that he was a better fighter, that nothing bad would happen, but then again, hadn’t Wels also been a good fighter? Hadn’t False?
His knuckles whitened as he grasped his trident firmer, his nails digging into the palms of his hands. He knew he shouldn’t let himself get distracted by the fate of others. That wasn’t him, and those circumstances had been different. He could do this. It was just sweeping a house to make sure there was nothing bad hidden in it. It could never be worse than that lair in the End. It simply couldn’t.
Doc walked downstairs again, this time looking around a whole lot more than he had done when he had first gotten in. He was checking for spiders in the various nooks and crannies of the building, just to make sure none of the bastards tried something funny. After all, he still had a standing order from Xisuma, to kill any spiders he saw on sight. And on sight it would be, if one of them was dumb enough to show itself.
Like that he worked his way through the house, ready to just strike at any moment. The chests seemed safe, though, as did the small sitting corner on the front side of the house. The enchanting area, though… He walked in there, checking between a few of the books in the bookcases before turning around. Then he saw something with eight legs sitting on the wall, and that was enough for him to throw his trident at it.
The weapon connected to the wall with a low thud and the sound of ripping fabric. Not sounds he would associate with a spider going splut, not really, and when his trident reappeared in his hand, he knew why. There was no spider corpse left on the wall. Instead, he had simply made three holes through a painting of an arachnid and some assorted fruits.
“Everything alright down there?” came Keralis’ voice, and for a short moment, Doc wondered what to say.
“Yeah, it’s just- Tell Python I owe him a painting!”
He didn’t quite like having to admit he had made a mistake, so he just didn’t. That was fine. He would just deal with the results when he got the time for that. Besides, he’d rather accidentally destroy a painting than miss a spider. Paintings could be replaced. Spiders… Who knew what those would get up to if they were allowed to live.
Doc finished his round of the house soon after that, and he found himself standing near the door out, periodically switching his attention between the bit of street that he could see through the windows and the staircase. He hoped Keralis would hurry up with whatever he was doing, especially so when he started hearing the sounds of diamond on metal. Sure, breaking the chains would make transporting Python easier, but on the other side… They were probably going to need to carry him anyway, so this just felt like a waste of time.
The longer it took, the more nervous and annoyed Doc became, but just as he was about to stomp up the staircase to ask what was going on, the bedroom door swung open and Keralis was helping Python limp out. It was slow, very much so, and it seemed as though Python was just going to fall down the stairs and respawn at multiple moments. Still, he was walking a little, which was progress.
“You two ready to go?” Doc asked.
“Yes, although… We may want to see how we can best move Python. He might not be able to walk all the way, and… I don’t think I’m strong enough to carry him.” Keralis rubbed his neck momentarily, stopping it the moment it seemed like his charge was tipping over too much in order to help him.
“I’ll carry him, then. You’re going to have to scout and protect in that case.” Without waiting for an answer, he put his trident away and walked over to the duo, that had meanwhile reached the end of the staircase.
“That works. You’re so strong, Doc!” Keralis seemed enthusiastic enough about the plan, while Python just seemed… Well, mostly out of it, if the cyborg was being truthful. Almost as though it didn’t matter to him what happened. Still, that didn’t mean Doc wasn’t going to at the very least ask if he was okay with it too.
“May I?”
The snake man stared at him for a moment, before nodding.
“Do what you must.”
It was all the consent Doc needed to scoop him up, trying to carry his fellow Hermit at least a little bit carefully. Then he nodded to the door.
“Keralis, lead the way.”
“Sure thing!”
He watched as the wide-eyed man opened up the door and walked outside, sword in hand. He stood there for a moment, checking the surroundings, before signalling to Doc that the coast was clear.
The way back consisted of much of the same. Keralis went ahead, while Doc hurried after him, keeping up a steady pace in order to make as much distance as possible. Only once did he stop, when Keralis thought he saw a shape moving over one of the towers. It were a few tense moments, in which Doc was internally debating what he should do, whether he should put Python down on the ground to fight, or to just be ready to make a break for the portal room.
In the end, though, it all was unnecessary. The shape had simply been the shadow of a cloud moving over, combined with a sun that was halfway through its descent towards the horizon. Nothing to be afraid of, but still best to make sure. The trio got moving once more, and the way to the towers was clear and safe.
When they got to the tower with the purple stained glass in the windows, Keralis unlocked the door and let Doc and Python go in first, covering their rear. The cyborg didn’t even wait before hopping into the Nether portal, given that it was the safest direction to go from there. They were almost home too, just a little bit more until their mission was truly successful.
The travel through the portal seemed to hit Python quite hard, though. He lost a little bit more colour, the red of his face becoming a more greenish tinge as nausea washed over him.
“You okay there, or…?” Doc asked, stepping a bit further away from the purple swirls. Instead of answering, though, Python just held up his finger as though he needed a moment to focus on something. For the shortest moment, it seemed as though he was going to throw up, but he managed to hold it in at the last moment.
“Yeah… I just… Portals, man.” Python smiled a little bit, though not enough to convince Doc that everything was alright.
“I don’t think we can wait here for very long. You’re out of immediate danger, that’s true, but I think everyone would like it better if you were back at the bunker, you know?”
The cyborg started to slowly walk towards the portal that would lead them back to the bunker, looking over his shoulder every now and then to check whether Keralis was there yet. There was no reason for him to take this long, after all, and the uneasy idea that he might simply be trading one life for another slowly crept up on him.
Doc was just about to pull out his communicator to send a message to the man when he came stepping through the portal. A sigh of relief rolled over his lips as Keralis jogged over.
“So sorry for the wait! The swirls… they distracted me again. And maybe I did a little bit of that… idea gathering you told me I shouldn’t. I just… I couldn’t help it! The architecture! It was just stunning! A man just has to stop and admire it, you know?” The man talked as though looking at buildings was very high up on his list of basic needs, which Doc normally would almost be able to understand, but right now, he had very little patience for that kind of thing. Sure, it had been harmless this time, but that wouldn’t always be the case.
The trouble now was that he couldn’t quite find the words to convey to the other man what he was feeling. How he found the actions to border on recklessness and egoism, despite, no, considering the reason for the mission. How he worried that something seriously bad might happen. The dilemma Keralis had almost placed him in, of having to possibly leave Python behind again in order to save Keralis.
In the end, though, he just grumpily nodded before walking on, to their destination portal.
“You ready, Python? We’re almost home.”
“Mmhmm,” he nodded, before firmly closing his eyes. It was all Doc needed to know before he stepped forwards, back home once more.
Notes:
told ya it was a long one
i really dont know how this happened, it just... words. so many of them.
Chapter 97: Arc 3 - 21
Summary:
Old friends meet again. The meaning of strength.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The first sensation he became aware of once he regained consciousness once more was the dull throbbing of his head and shoulder. He could still feel exactly where the pickaxe had struck the side of his helmet, and the ringing hadn’t quite left his ears just yet. Still, he tried to show no sign of discomfort as he listened for what was happening around him.
Better to be cautious than caught, after all. And every bit of information he could gather before anyone knew he was awake again… Well. That was something he was going to use to his advantage. How could he not?
There was another person in the same room as him, that much was clear. Where else could the singing come from? Still, why one would sing for their prisoner didn’t quite make sense. It was a meaningless show of… Something. He wasn’t certain of what, but it was meaningless. Maybe it was simply to rub salt into the wound of having lost, of having been captured. Maybe it was a futile attempt to reach someone no longer there. Maybe it was simply an effort to hide a mounting amount of dread. Maybe it was meant not to do anything to him, maybe it was simply there to comfort the singer.
Tsk… Useless.
Inside of him, though, he felt someone stir in recognition, the thought of humming along dancing through his mind like a leaf on the wind. This was not the time to do so, though. This was the time to gather information, and after that would be the time to break free. That would possibly be paired with sending some flies into his lord’s web, and if not, that was an activity he was planning for after his escape too.
He forced his attention back to the room, back to the things he could perceive. Aside from the singing, he didn’t quite hear anyone, so he wanted to assume there was only one person in the room with him, a woman. That being said, her voice would drown out most of the softer noises that could indicate someone else was there, which was slightly problematic. On the plus side, if it was only her that was there… It should be easy enough to overpower a single person.
That was, if he could manage to break free from the layer of something that was tightly wrapped around him, pressing his legs together and squeezing his arms into his sides. It felt like he was in a sitting position too, with a straight, hard surface pressing against his back. The bonds made the plates of his armour dig into his skin, which was distinctly uncomfortable, but not so bad that it disturbed his focus all too much.
Maybe this is not a problem to solve based on strength.
After waiting a few more seconds, trying to figure out whatever else he could based on sound alone, he opened his eyes. Slowly at first, opening them to a sliver, and then further when he saw her sitting with her eyes turned away from him. Was she so full of hubris that she didn’t think it was necessary to keep an eye on him, especially while she was in the same room? Or was she simply trying to insult him, rubbing it in that he had gotten caught?
Either way, he shifted her higher up his list of targets. When he got out, she would be the first he’d send to his lord. He looked around slowly, trying to learn more about his surroundings. The slight movement was accompanied by the sound of chain grating over ragged armour, and the singing stopped immediately. Internally, he was cursing, but he was careful to not let that show on the outside.
“Iskall? Are you awake, luv?” the woman asked as she turned towards him, concern both on her face and in her voice. He didn’t get it, he didn’t get why she would care about an enemy, he didn’t get why she hadn’t just started torturing him to get all information he had out of him. After all, that’s what his lord would do. Still, the fact that she didn’t… He could use that. It seemed like there was some kind of sentimentality there, judging by the way she spoke the name, judging by the reaction of that other voice inside of him.
For a moment he stared at her, catching her eyes, and trying to figure out what to do next. The issue was that he wasn’t sure how that worthless little fly had acted before his lord has turned him into a little spider, which made it rather difficult to figure out what was the proper response.
“Not Iskall, then, right. I’m gonna take off your helmet, if you don’t mind, so I can take a look at some of your wounds, alright?” She came closer as she spoke, apparently having caught on to him before he had even done anything. Her bond with that little fly had to have been stronger than he had anticipated, and that was throwing his initial plan straight out of the window.
Instead of answering her, though, he just stared her down, almost in the hope that that would somehow hurt her. It didn’t, though, much as he already expected.
“Oh, come on luv, there’s no need for that. I get that your mind may still be a bit scrambled after what that spidery bastard did to you, but no worries, lil’ ol’ Stress is gonna help you, okay?” She came closer still until she stopped right next to him, on the side where his remaining eye was, almost as if to make sure he was able to see what she was doing at all times.
But why? Why not make use of my disadvantages, why not make sure I can’t see what she is doing? I just… I don’t get it. This isn’t efficient in the slightest. Or… Is this a long play? Is she trying to make me feel comfortable, so it just hits harder when she actually starts hurting me? Or is this genuine, is she really that naïve?
He started opening his mouth to say something, but he really wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. Sure, he could object to her taking off his helmet, but he wasn’t too sure how much that actually would change. It wasn’t like he could refrain her from doing so even if he wanted, so what was the point? No, he wasn’t going to respond to that. What he was going to respond to, however, was the blatant insult towards Arachne that she had made.
“My lord is not a bastard, and they did not scramble my mind. This is simply what peak performance looks like.” His voice was low and threatening, promising more hurt than he could actually make true in his current situation.
“Sure it is, luv. That’s probably why your shoulder seems to be broken or at least dislocated. Peak performance indeed,” she answered, and it surprised him how little of it actually sounded like she was mocking him. “Now, let’s look at it, shall we?”
He grunted in response. She just didn’t make sense to him, not in the slightest.
“Why don’t you hate me? Why do you not treat me like an enemy?” he asked as she gently took the edges of his helmet, careful not to cut herself on the jagged bits.
“Well…” she started, before trying to lift off the helmet. It didn’t slide off, though, unlike he expected. It felt as though it was stuck to his skin, or maybe even partially merged with it. The helmet moved up a little, as much as the flesh on his face allowed for, and then just stopped, any more upward movement causing unpleasant pulling feelings that even went into the painful territory as she put a little bit more force behind what she was doing.
He let out a hiss of pain, and it seemed like she got the hint too.
“Hmmm… That doesn’t work, then. Pity, but I’ll figure out something else.”
His eye found a place away from her as he focussed on the door instead.
“You didn’t answer my question, fly.”
A soft sigh sounded beside him, one laced with disappointment.
“I have a name, you know? I mean, you should know it, deep inside, because I know for a fact that Iskall is still in there too. If you want me to answer your questions, you’re gonna have to actually call me by my name, and not by some insulting nickname, alright? That’s how we do things here.”
A muscle under his eyelid started twitching at that, while he simultaneously felt kind of bad for treating her like he had. When he tried to suppress the feeling, though, he all too quickly found that it hadn’t in fact originated with him, but rather with that Iskall that was still hiding somewhere in his mind.
Stress. Her name is Stress. Say her name. Say it.
The thoughts bubbled up without him wanting them too, and they wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he strained himself, no matter how hard he pushed, no matter how hard he tried to think other things. He growled in displeasure as she just patiently waited for what he was going to do next.
“Fine! You didn’t answer my question, Stress.” He almost spat out her name, but she nonetheless clapped her hands once.
“See? Now that wasn’t too hard, now was it? You’re getting there, well done! As for your questions… Hate breeds hate, innit? I can treat you like an enemy all I want, but that won’t solve things, so instead… Well, I’m just trying to help you realise who you really are. And if I’m doing that, I might as well heal you up a little.” She let go of the helmet and took a step back, back into his field of vision.
“That sounds like weakness. Only a weak person would try to solve things this way.”
Stress chuckled, then shook her head.
“You know, I still vaguely remember having a very similar conversation the first time we met. As in, me and Iskall. He used to think that way too, but… I guess he learnt there’s also strength in forgiveness and in caring for others, especially when it would be all too easy to just strike them down instead. Just terrorising and hurting, there’s no real strength in that.” Stress smiled at him gently, way too gently for his taste, and before he knew it, a wave of nostalgia and memories found itself pushing at the periphery of his mind. Memories that felt like his, but also not his at the same time. Memories of a time long past, of kingdoms now gone, of missions he used to carry out even before that. Memories of cold-blooded slaughter, but also memories of warm nights at a campfire, the latter increasingly more present as time went on.
He wanted them gone, those memories, those… Those moments of weakness. He didn’t want to think about it, but the other voice inside him wanted it like nothing else in the world. It was a battle for dominance in his mind, one that he was not intent on losing. Not like this. What would his lord think?
Who cares what they would think! Those memories, that’s ME! And I’m not whatever power fantasy that spider implanted in my brain.
“Shut up,” he growled, shaking his head, and trying to rid himself of the thoughts, but not to the amount of success that he had hoped for. His vision seemed to grow a little bit less green too, but that could also have been a trick of the light in the room.
“Everything alright there, luv? Is it memories coming-“
“SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!” He wanted to grab the sides of his head, he wanted to grab them so bad, but the stupid collection of ropes and chain around him stopped him from doing so.
“Oh dear… Hold on, luv, I’ll have someone else come over, that might work a little bit better for you, okay?” She grabbed a small device from the pocket of her shorts and started typing away at it, while he started trashing against his bonds, partially to try to get free, partially to distract him from that other voice in his mind, the one that was creeping closer and closer to the surface. With each movement he made, he felt pain shoot through his shoulder and head, and every white-hot spike made it easier to separate himself from that other him. It brought a strange kind of peace to his mind, too numbed by pain to think.
And then he felt a hand grasping his, gently squeezing it while Stress made some soothing noises.
“Hey, it’s alright Iskall. Shhh, you’re okay, you’re safe, luv. There’s no need to hurt yourself, right? That shoulder of yours is only going to heal worse if you go on like this.”
The words barely filtered through, but they were there, and it confused him even more. This whole situation confused him so, so much. He just didn’t get it, not in the slightest. Why would she comfort him? Why did she try so hard, even when he had attacked her and her friends not even all too long earlier?
Because it’s Stress. Because she cares. Because she can find the good in anyone, and because she believes in second chances. Because she knows I’ve changed before, and because you are nothing if not a different version of me.
He slowly fell still, stopping his trashing and instead just slumping down in his bonds. He hated that there was truth in the thoughts. He hated it with a passion, and yet… If he wasn’t afraid of what his lord would do to him if they found out, he might have acknowledged the thoughts.
A few cheerful beeps broke through the near-silence, but Stress didn’t seem intent on taking a look at the cause of them, instead opting to just sit there and gently calm him down further. Her soft nonsensical sounds filled the air, and he could almost feel a grounding cold radiate from her hands.
“That’s it, there we go. You got this. It’s all fine, you’ll get through this. We’ll figure out a way to get you out of that armour, and then we’ll have Doc look at your eye and repair that, how does that sound?”
He stared at her, unmoving except to blink and to breathe. He disliked the thought of losing his armour. He felt safe in it, especially this deep into enemy territory. It didn’t matter that his enemies apparently didn’t really see him as an enemy as long as he didn’t actively fight them. It just… It felt better.
“Just the helmet, not the rest. And I want it back.” His tone was flat and strained as he tried to just focus on the there and then, nothing that could cause more of those memories to rise to the surface.
“Of course you’ll get it back, luv. However, I do also want to briefly take off one of your pauldrons to take a look at your shoulder, so I can set it before it heals in a wrong way.” Her voice sounded stern, as though she didn’t want to hear no. Again, even if he protested, how much would that change?
“Ugh… Alright then.”
Her demeanour changed in an instant, and she was smiling brightly at him.
“Good! Now, let’s see what they said…” she dug up the device as she spoke, and started reading what was on it. Her brow furrowed more the further she got, and part of that easy-going vibe she had had around her just seconds before was simply gone. “Huh… Mumbo isn’t here? But… I thought… When did he leave? Where is he?” For a brief moment longer, she looked at the device, before turning back to him.
“Did you and Ren take him? Did you two take Mumbo?” She was trying to not sound desperate, that much was obvious, but he wasn’t quite decided yet on whether she actually succeeded in that. Still, he felt that other him pushing to the surface, ready to spill his lord’s secrets if he didn’t do it himself. Still, captured or not, he was not about to go and let his enemies know of their plans.
How much does it really matter if you answer this truthfully? Ren and me- Ren and you didn’t take Mumbo. There’s nothing she can learn from that.
The other voice had a point, that much was true, but he still wasn’t keen on actually telling Stress things that could give her and the other flies a tactical advantage.
If you don’t do it, I will. And I will tell her more.
A growl rolled out of his mouth, just before he bit his lower lip, the pain grounding him in the there and then.
“We didn’t take him,” he finally said, staring straight into her eyes.
“Then who did?” she asked, and before he could stop it, he could feel a rush of memories knocking him to the side, another presence moving his mouth without him wanting it to. He fought it, he fought it so hard, but he couldn’t stop a few words from slipping through.
“Grian! Grian did! Stress, listen to me, I-“
He yanked his shoulder forwards, into his bonds, as fast and strongly as he could, and took the moment of pain to take back the control, fighting that other him down as far as he could once again. His vision became greener again, and he stared at Stress while panting.
She squinted her eyes at him.
“Iskall…? I- I see. Thank you so much, luv. I’ll be back in a moment, alright? Just hold on a little bit longer.” She briefly patted him on the non-wounded shoulder, before flashing a smile at him and pacing out of the room, locking it behind her.
“Listen to me, Iskall… This won’t happen again. I won’t allow it. I hope you enjoyed your moment of communication with her, because it will be your last. It won’t be the last you see of her, because I will make sure you see it when I snap her neck and send her to my lord’s web, I swear it,” he hissed into the empty air.
For once, though, his head remained silent, with no sign of memories coming up or a voice thinking thoughts he didn’t want to think. Silent, as he preferred it. He let out a humourless chuckle, and then leaned back in his bonds as far as they allowed him to. It was time to think of a plan to get out of there.
Notes:
It's been a while, hasn't it? I blame uni, as well as a super generic writer's block. Meanwhile, though, chapter 100 is drawing near, which is... well, further than I had ever thought this story would go.
Chapter 98: Arc 3 - 22
Summary:
A light in the dark. Introspection.
Notes:
TW for things piercing skin (short mention in the third paragraph, then more starting from "It simultaneously felt like an eternity [...]", in bursts throughout the rest of the chapter).
TW for skin burning (mentioned in the paragraph starting with "It simultaneously felt like an eternity [...]" and implied in the paragraph starting with 'This time, when the drop came [...]")
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The hot air was thick around him, almost unbearably so. His breathing was shallow and laboured as his lungs simply refused to process the air, and he found himself slipping in and out of consciousness multiple times before he properly managed to stay awake. Xisuma blinked his eyes open to near-total darkness, the only light present being a vague orange glow. It felt as though he was in the Nether, and it smelled that way too, the smell of sulphur hanging oppressively in the air.
The admin tried to move, hoping to feel around and figure out a little bit more about where he was, but something stopped him. Multiple somethings, actually. He felt the texture of stone all around his hands and fingers, keeping them firmly in their place, with less than a millimetre of give. There seemingly was no seam in the material either, which made him wonder how anyone had managed to put his hands in there. Xisuma tried to lift up his hands gently, to figure out if it was just some kind of rudimentary glove or something more, and quickly figured out two things.
First of all, the stone was too heavy to just be gloves, and it felt like it was set into the wall. Second of all, there were bands of spikes holding him down tightly to the slanted stone he was laying on, piercing through the fabric of his black turtleneck and his pants and into his skin whenever he moved too much. At least his head was kind of free to move around, although another band, not spiked this time, held his neck firmly in place.
Seems I’m in a bit of a pickle… Hmm… Now how do I get out of this?
The first step he could think of was to figure out how much movement he was allowed. For his arms he already knew it wasn’t too much, but maybe they had left his legs somewhat free?
It was an idle hope, really, one that evaporated like a snowflake in the sun the moment he tried to move. More spiked bands held his legs in place, while it seemed like his feet were encased in stone as well. It seemed like he was going to need some help in order to get out, but that being said… If he was where he thought that he was, he doubted that help was going to come soon. After all, it had taken the Hermits multiple days to figure out where Grian had been taken to, and then some more to actually prepare and mount a raid on the place. Logically, he knew it was best to prepare for the worst, and to assume that it would take multiple days to get him out of there too. It wasn’t a great prospective, Xisuma knew that, but he’d rather keep his hopes somewhat realistic, just to make sure he could keep up his spirit.
The admin would have sighed, were it not for the sticky threads wrapped all around the lower part of his face, keeping his mouth tightly shut and not allowing him to speak. It seemed like their enemy had properly thought this through, knowing just what to do to make him feel powerless.
And powerless he truly was. He had no communicator to talk to others with, and he couldn’t even cast the most rudimentary of admin magic without speaking or at the very least moving his hands. There was simply nothing he could do but lay there and think and breathe, half choking on the hot air. Oh, what he would have given to have his helmet or at the very least one of his half-masks, that would make this whole ordeal a lot more bearable. That being said, he was quite sure that that spidery bastard would allow nothing of the sort.
Speaking of them, wasn’t their lair in the End? If so, then where did that sulphury stink come from? Jevin didn’t mention it when he got back, and this does sound like a big enough thing to make a note of. Where am I? It’s hot enough to be the Nether, and the air feels about right too, but… The stone is wrong. This isn’t netherrack. Then again, it’s not too hard to take a material from the Overworld and take it to the Nether or even the End, so that’s not a good enough reason to say I’m definitely not in the Nether. Hmmm… What else could cause this? Where else does it fit? Am I near a lava lake of sorts? That might be it, actually. Lava could cause this too. Then again, there’s so much lava to be found, that doesn’t even narrow it down in the slightest. Think, X, think… If I were an evil spider hell-bent on brainwashing the Hermits, where would I put my lair? Besides somewhere out in the End, that is. And besides apparently some cave in the mountains far away. Actually, could I be in that cave? Or do they also have some kind of Nether base? Urgh, this isn’t getting me anywhere.
Xisuma laid back and tried to relax as frustration and fear danced through his blood. He would get out of this predicament somehow. He had faith in his friends, and that faith would just have to be enough for now. His eyes found the ceiling perhaps three blocks above him, and right there he found the source of the orange glow. It seemed as though there was a drop of lava hanging from the ceiling right above him, a drop that was gradually growing larger until gravity would win the fight from surface tension. The question wasn’t if it would drop, but when.
He involuntarily swallowed, knowing there was no way for him to escape that bit of danger hanging above him. He couldn’t get out of the way, not with the spikes that seemed keen on biting into his flesh at the slightest hint of movement, not with his extremities encased in stone. It was simply not happening. The admin blinked, also realising he was not going to be able to keep his body still as the lava burnt him.
This… is not going to be pleasant, now is it?
His eyes found one of the spiked bands, the metal gleaming darkly in the orange glow. It didn’t take much to imagine it was actually the jaw of some kind of monster, and he swallowed once again. No, this really wouldn’t be pleasant, and it was all he could hope for that it would just stay with a singular drop of lava. His gaze shifted back upwards, and it seemed as though the drop had swollen even further, now hanging precariously.
It was at that point that Xisuma decided he didn’t want to know when it would drop. He didn’t want to see it, he didn’t want to anticipate it, he didn’t want to imagine how painful it would be when the hot liquid found his unprotected skin. Dying to lava had never been pleasant, nor had simply stepping into it, especially not without his armour on. Then again, he doubted a single drop would be enough to kill him. The admin closed his eyes and tried to focus on better thoughts, on better places.
It simultaneously felt like an eternity and like no time at all had passed when he felt something incredibly hot drop onto his lower chest. It burnt through his shirt with ease, and then it started eating away at his skin. Perhaps it was because of the small amount of anticipating he had been doing despite his attempt not to, but the pain simply felt unreal. No amount of self-control could stop him from trashing in his bonds in an attempt to get the lava off of him, in the process driving the spikes deeper into his skin, which only worsened his situation. The sounds he managed to bring forth despite the gag were mostly guttural cries of pain as the lava seared through the ends of nerves until it finally hardened into stone, cooled down by air and little bits of his own blood.
Xisuma couldn’t remember ever having felt something like this before, not while surviving it, at the very least. This time, however, it seemed like he was going to survive. This time, it seemed almost as though the entire setup was created specifically to keep him uncomfortable at best and in hellish pain at worst.
It took what felt like minutes before he had somewhat managed to reduce his breathing from panting to gasping for air, all time in which he felt blood dripping from the various places where the spikes had pierced through his skin. There was sweat on his forehead, just waiting there until it could drip down or until he somehow managed to shake it off. The skin where his hands and feet went into the stone already felt raw from rubbing against the edges, and Xisuma really didn’t know how long it would take before the skin there would break too. He didn’t know either how many more of those drops of lava he could handle without either dying or his mind breaking. Honestly, this was perhaps one of those few times where receiving healing was not actually a good thing. Healing would only prolong this torment.
Then again, dying didn’t entirely mean he would be free from it either, now did it? For all he knew, he could very well just respawn back into the clutches of the spider, despite his earlier attempts to repair the respawning mechanism.
Is this also how the others felt? Did they have to go through this too, or was Arachne more merciful to them? I really don’t know which of the two I would have preferred, but… Well, less pain is generally better. I just wonder… How long did they hold out? I know Iskall and Ren held out for a day at most, but what about Grian? What about Biffa, what about Wels, what about Python, what about Scar? How long did it take before they got transformed in that… In those slaves to Arachne? Minutes? Hours? Days? Longer still? How long do I need to go through this before I would give in? How long before physical discomfort and pain would lead me to betray my friends, how long would it take for me to give up this world?
Another swallow, this time paired with a shivered breath in. Xisuma didn’t want to think about it. He really didn’t, and yet, he couldn’t stop his brain. There was nothing else to do, after all, just nothing at all.
Are they just going to leave me alone in here for now? So I can slowly go crazy from isolation? Is that it, is that the plan? Somewhere, it’s some kind of poetic justice, isn’t it? I sent my brother to a place that’s much the same, after all… Although… I think there was no pain there. And I’m quite sure he could move somewhat freely. Hmm, now that I think of it, I’ve never been there, in that dimension. Perhaps, once all of this is over… No. There is no saying what he would do if I were to let him out. He could well destroy the world we’re fighting so hard for to protect. It’s too dangerous. He’s too dangerous. I just… I can’t. I can’t allow it.
Did he really want to think about possible mistakes of his past while he was in his current situation? Not really, but his mind seemingly paid no mind to that. It was more like it was revelling in the thoughts, knowing that he had no way to escape them now.
At least, that would have been true were it not for the fact that for the first time, he heard sounds coming from outside of where he was kept. It sounded like the sound of a pickaxe hitting rock, and with each smack, he felt the stone reverberate ever so slightly. Was it someone coming to get him out, already? Or was this simply something else, something designed to keep him from relaxing, something to keep him on his toes? Xisuma wasn’t sure. It could be either, really, although he expected it to be the latter. He waited with bathed breath as the sounds continued, then felt disappointment when the sounds stopped and he didn’t see additional light in his cell.
His eyes found the ceiling again, where another drop of lava was already accumulating. It wasn’t quite as big yet as the prior one had been, but that was most probably a matter of minutes. Just a few minutes, and then he would be hurting again. Knowing it in advance didn’t quite do anything to lessen the dread he felt as he slowly watched the droplet grow further and further, the sounds from outside completely gone once again.
Instead, there was just the glowing lava and him, once more unable to get away from it. Would someone come in at the last moment to help him, to save him? To stop the drop from dripping? Probably not, let’s be honest. He was in the middle of some enemy base, and he refused to believe that the monster that would tear apart someone just to get to the thing they wanted would stop someone from hurting. Xisuma really doubted it.
This time, when the drop came, it didn’t directly splash down on his skin, rather hitting the small bit of stone that was already there and splitting into multiple smaller drops as they did. They landed on his stomach, chest, and arms, and while they were smaller, they were still white hot. Again, he screamed as best as he could while he tried to hold his body a little bit more still this time. Not that it helped him a whole lot. Reflexes kicked in before his logical brain could, and he once more felt the metal spikes biting deep into his skin, some in the same place as before, some just slightly to the side of where they had been before. One thing was sure, if he were to survive this torment, it would definitely leave scars, no matter how fast him and the other Hermits could heal. That was simply what tended to happen. Sure, the scars would fade over time, with each respawn, but they would never truly leave.
He was still breathing heavily when another source of light appeared in the room. Not on the ceiling, this time, but across from him. It was a thin line at first, as though a door was cracking open, and just seconds after that it seemed like he had been right in that idea. The crack widened, and Xisuma had to blink against the sudden amount of light after having spent the last who knows how long clad in near total darkness. There, in the doorway, stood a figure he only recognised from the security tapes of the bunker. Their chitin gleamed in the light of torches that were somewhere out of sight, and their eyes were all trained on him. Behind them was scenery he recognised, although it had been warped into something more… Well. ‘Fitting’ would be the right word, but that didn’t mean he liked it. He could see a large web in the background, and while that had taken over quite some space, the various wooden walkways still told him exactly where he was.
Scar’s volcano… Oh no. That’s… It’s closer than the End, at least, but… Would the Hermits think to search here?
Xisuma bit the inside of his cheek as he moved his head a little so he could properly give Arachne the stink eye.
“Well, well, well… What have we here? A little Worldshaper, all mine.” An inhuman chuckle rolled over their lips as they came closer to him. Xisuma couldn’t help but try to retreat a little, which only served to dig the spikes deeper into his skin. He inhaled in pain, but tried to not show more than that.
“What is it? Don’t you like this place? Don’t worry, it’s simply meant to keep you safe until you accept my mark. After all, we wouldn’t want you to go out there and get hurt, now would we?” Another one of those chuckles that made his skin crawl sounded as they stretched out a hand, almost gently stroking over the webbing on his jaw before grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at them.
“Worldshaper or not, right now you are nothing more than a weak little fly, destined to become some spider’s meal. However… I can change that. I can make you into a spider instead, predator, not prey. And all it takes is for you to simply accept my mark. How about it?”
The admin squinted at them, not at all intending to take their deal. He had seen what that mark had done to Biffa, and he was not about to accept it himself. If that made him a fly, then so be it. Xisuma pointedly shook his head.
“Such a shame. I will make you change your mind, though. Mark my words, little Worldshaper, you and I are going to have so. Much. Fun.”
They flicked the bits of stone on his chest to the side, before taking out a small bottle and uncorking it right underneath his nose. Before he could fully understand what was going on, he had already breathed in the pungent fumes, making him cough as they burnt their way into his lungs and then through the rest of his body. It wasn’t as bad as the drops of lava had been, but whatever it was, it made him unable to lay still, instead sending tremors through his body.
“I’ll be back later to see if you changed your mind,” Arachne spoke, and it was all he could do to mentally throw some choice curse words at them before they left and shrouded him in darkness once more. He let his head fall softly back against the stone, and he looked up.
Above him, he could see the start of a new drop of lava building, uncaring about the amount of pain he was already in. And the only thing Xisuma could do was wait for it to drop.
Notes:
It feels like ages ago since I was so in the flow of writing. I would like to offer a special thanks to Jag and Saega in the discord for having me spite-write basically all of this chapter. Thanks guys ^^
Chapter 99: Arc 3 - 23
Summary:
Find and retrieve.
Notes:
There are mentions of blood and gore throughout this chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
He paid no mind to the periodic sounds of pain coming from one of the cells as he continued working on building the last one. Sally knew who was in there, and while something deep within him was still protesting it, he knew that this was for the better. The man simply needed to accept his master’s mark, and then all would be well. Why he didn’t see that was beyond the little spider.
Either way, he finished setting up the walls of the cell, and then put the door in place. It didn’t need much more, now did it? It had the essentials, and it was easy enough to add more things should it be needed, like he had with the first cell. Still, he double-checked whether it was constructed right before even thinking about telling his master he was done. After all, nothing less than perfect would do. It was that simple.
Sally kept his head down as he went and put the building materials away, mostly in order to not stand out too much. He had already felt Arachne’s wrath once, after making a relatively small mistake, and he would like to not have that happen again. The little spider moved quickly, but didn’t run, and when everything was put away, he moved back to the web where his master was sitting. Sally bowed as he approached, careful not to make direct eye contact.
“It is done, master,” he said as he straightened his back again, his hands clasping his upper arms behind him.
“I see… Then it is time to populate these cells. And that, little spider, is where you come in. One fly remains in the original web. He is… unsupervised, and that will not do. Retrieve him and bring him to me. Leave the collar, the chain, and the gag on.” They hissed their words, displeasure and bloodthirst woven through them.
“Of course, master, at once.” Sally bowed again as he left, heading straight for the portal. He would not disappoint Arachne. Behind him, he could hear them start moving too, paired with the clanking of chains and the panicked whimpers and pleads of the mole. He could just about guess what was happening there, and a brief look over his shoulder as he stepped into the portal confirmed it: The suited man was being moved into one of the cells. Something he didn’t seem to like, but honestly, that was simply what he got for refusing his master’s mark. It was really as though none of those pesky flies realised that in the end, they had no choice but to accept. It would just go so much faster and so much more painless if they didn’t fight.
The familiar nausea of the portal cut off his thoughts, and a blink later he found himself back in the End, behind the old lair of his master. From there on, it should all be easy enough. He knew where his target was kept, and knocking him out shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Sally had an advantage anyway, given the fact that he was wearing armour and had some tools with him, so in the worst case he could just send the fly back the fast way, although he was relatively certain that his master would not like that.
He walked around the temple-like building and opened the door. Immediately the slightly musty smell of the place mixed with the smell of dead and decaying spiders came wafting out, and Sally had to take a moment to let his body adjust. While he mentally didn’t mind the scent in the slightest, his stomach still had a few issues with it. A shame, really. The corpses would probably do quite well as part of the liquidised meat that had been his food for the last few meals, and the taste was enjoyable enough.
A very small part of his mind tried bucking against the very suggestion that the food was good, but it was suppressed easily enough. It was weak, that other voice in him, and before long, it would be fully gone, he was certain of it. He would make it so.
He started going down the stairs at quite a normal pace, but had to switch over to flying not all too long later. There were simply too many dead spiders laying there to make the walk downstairs anywhere near safe, and if he was honest, Sally was not really waiting to have to clean all the gunk from his boots after he returned. Besides, flying was faster than walking anyway, and the sooner he got this done, the better he thought his master would like it. As long as he actually followed their commands, that was.
The area around him didn’t change all that much as he moved on. The floor just got more and more covered in the dead masses of limbs, while basically all doors he passed had been opened, where normally they would be closed. At least the floors in the rooms behind the doors were relatively empty, with only the sporadic fallen spider. He did like it though that both his master’s original web room and the shrine were both completely devoid of spiders, as though the intruders had known not to defile those places.
It was unexpected footsteps that made him suddenly stop in his tracks. There was no reason for those to be audible right there and then, let alone for them to be coming closer to where he was, and Sally squinted.
Did the fly somehow escape? But how? Or… Did one of the intruders stay here, hoping to gather more information, or to break the fly out?
He wasn’t too sure what was going on, but he unsheathed his sword just in case. If it was one of the intruders, he would not be wasting much time, and he would just go right ahead and stab them, sending them to his master instantly. If it weren’t, though… That would require investigation. He couldn’t just return to Arachne with this news, not if he didn’t know what had caused the escape. And even if he did, would they be pleased? The little spider doubted it, but then again, if he had the fly with him… At the very least there was someone else they could direct their wrath towards.
The footsteps slowed down, and Sally was almost certain he could hear someone breathing, and the soft clanking of metal on metal. Chain or armour, he wasn’t sure, but he was relatively certain that whatever it was, it was just around the next corner.
Best to surprise them. Best to take them down before they know what’s happening.
He flew forwards, his wings silently moving the air around until he was at the corner. There, he touched down, his feet finding a good and steady position between the spiders. It was a shame that this was what it had come down to, but cleaning boots was still better than having an intruder or prisoner escape because he couldn’t put enough power behind a blow without his feet on the ground.
And then he waited. Sally slowed his breathing down as he readied his sword as silently as he could. The footsteps came closer and closer, and the sounds of metal began to sound more distinctly like chains rattling.
The fly, then. This will be easy.
Sally stood ready, knowing now that he needed to aim for knocking out, not for killing. Well, either that or weakening the fly, that would work fine too. After all, nobody died of poison, it just brought them really close to it. And who knew, perhaps he could just convince the other to forget the whole notion of fighting, and perhaps he would just give up.
The small voice inside of him began protesting again once he thought that, though. Something about the fly never giving up and standing his ground. Pathetic, if you asked him. People needed to know when to give up, when the enemy was simply too strong. Besides, anyone with any idea of self-worth would try to evade harm being done to them, and this… Well. If the fly didn’t immediately surrender, harm would be done to him. It was that simple.
It took longer than he had expected for the fly to emerge around the corner. He was still wearing his collar and chain, which was good, but it was less good that he appeared to no longer be gagged. Instead, Sally could see the second metal band just hanging around his neck as well, surrounded by the chain that the fly had seemingly just draped around his shoulders as well. In his hands was a sword much like Sally’s own, and he felt a little bit of anger spark within him. How dared that fly touch a spider’s blade?
Sally extended his arm, pointing his own sword straight at the fly.
“Drop the sword and surrender,” he said. “You cannot escape or win.”
And for the shortest of moments, it actually looked as though the other man was lowering his sword.
“Grian… I… You know I can’t do that.”
And then he struck, his sword coming at the little spider with expert precision. Sadly, though, Sally was just about quick enough to push the sword slightly to the side with his own, and his armour stopped the rest. It wasn’t over, though, and the fly quickly dove into a series of jabs, stabs, and lunges. He was quick, and he remained surprisingly steady on his feet despite the treacherous ground. Still, he was unarmoured, and his blade wasn’t enchanted, leaving him at a serious disadvantage.
“I will make you surrender, then.”
Sally responded in kind, parrying and blocking while he stood his ground. All he had to do was cut the fly once and then deflect everything that would be thrown his way, and he would win. As for the other man… Well. He would have to somehow manage to beat him long enough to get past him, and even then, where would the fly go after that? The only portal on the island lead right into Arachne’s lair, and jumping off, into the Void, had much the same effect. Certainly, it was possible for him to hole up in one of the rooms, but still. Eventually he would have to make a move, and eventually he would end up back in the web. There was simply no way for the fly to win.
Their swords clanked and clashed as they moved. Sally mostly tried to stand his ground, simply not allowing the other man to pass him. Stepping back was not a problem for him, though, given that it would only lead him closer to where he would need to bring the fly anyway. Still, he would not step back too far or too fast, lest the fly would start to feel confident in what he was doing. That was not something he would allow. Instead, he let his sword rain down on the other man, moving as quickly as he could, trying to drive him back instead. Perhaps he could use the terrain to his advantage. Perhaps he could lure the other man in such a position that he got stuck in one of the webs in the hallway. Perhaps there were still spiders out there that could help him, or give him a small advantage at least.
It took a while before Sally realised that so far, neither of them had really been winning. The fly had somehow been able to deflect everything he had managed to send his way, while the same went for the spider. It was a bit frustrating, given that he knew that he should be having the advantage, right there and then. Still, up until that point, he had been fighting fairly. He had just used the sword, and that was it. He hadn’t tried any of the meaner tactics. He hadn’t tried to grapple yet, he hadn’t tried to kick yet. Then again, kicking was probably not a good idea, given the floor, even though he had wings that could keep him upright should worst come to worst.
Grappling, though…
His next attack was a feign, mostly meant to get the fly’s attention to the right and above, while he tried to grab from below with his left hand. His main objective was simply to grab hold of the chain, and he stepped in closer to actually reach it.
Immediately, his enemy’s blade ricocheted of off his pauldron in retaliation, but that was alright. He felt the links of chain between his fingers, and Sally grabbed a tight hold of them before yanking at them, pulling his opponent off-balance for a second.
And that second was all he needed.
He moved his blade again, and the edge of it just about nicked into the skin of the fly. At that point, Sally knew it was over. He had won, the other man just didn’t know wit yet. He was still trying his hardest to win, moving his focus to the hand holding his chains now. The little spider knew there was little he could do to block all of it, regardless of the gauntlets he was wearing, and he decided to just not bother. After all, the other man had been poisoned already, now it was just a matter of time. With a grin, he let go of the chain again, and he continued fighting, albeit a little bit more defensive now. After all, there was no need to get wounded because of this, and he was certain that his master would disapprove of it, probably even more so than the first time that it happened. It was not something he was keen on finding out, though.
Perhaps the sudden shift in style was noticed by the fly, because for the shortest of moments, Sally was relatively sure the other man squinted, before proceeding more cautiously as well. It was something the little spider all too gladly made use of, trying to get in a few more hits, although none of them actually broke through the defences of the other man. It was sad, but not world-endingly so. It just meant that this would take longer.
He stepped backwards, allowing the fly to move further forwards, away from the corner. Away from possible cover. All the while, Sally had a grin on his face. And still, the fly seemed to be in his element, swinging his sword and executing techniques the little spider had not seen before. Or, well, it seemed like some part of him recognised them, which was all he really needed. It meant he could guess at how to parry or evade, and in some cases, he could even try to take a stab.
Still, it was only when one of those opportunistic stabs actually hit that his grin widened. His opponent was slowing down and breathing more heavily, although he was still formidable with his sword. Just not formidable enough.
“I told you, surrender. You have already lost,” he hissed between his teeth as he caught another swing on his blade. Bits of blood were already seeping into the tunic the other man was wearing, and Sally knew it would not be long, now.
“Never.” The word was probably supposed to sound steadfast, as though the person speaking it was filled with resolve, but little of that actually carried over. Not when there was a tremble in his voice. Not if it sounded like he was in pain. Not when Sally was able to add a few more slices to the unprotected arms of the fly.
It didn’t take too long for him to start noticing how the edges of the wounds he had caused started blackening while the veins around them darkened. The fly was hissing in pain, and Sally could see his sword shaking, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was the fact that this fight was almost over. All he cared about was the fact that his task was almost complete, although it had already taken longer than he had expected.
Sweat beaded on the forehead of the fly as his pupils dilated and shrunk, but still he kept trying to attack. That was the one thing Sally could appreciate. At the very least he wasn’t trying to run. At the very least, the fly was standing his ground. What a good spider this fly could be if he just gave in. Certainly, someone that was this true to his word and that let this much of his resolve show in his actions could be a very good servant. After all, it meant that he would follow through with his master’s orders until the very end.
And to the very end the fly stood, albeit shakingly. His sword slowly dropped lower and lower and his movements ground down to a halt as the darkness in his veins spread further and further. He was trembling in pain but somehow managed to not whimper or whine, only letting out a very occasional hiss or groan.
“Your definition of ‘never’ is… amusing,” Sally stated, before slapping the sword out of the fly’s hands. He could see that the other man was trying to hold on to it but just failed in the end, his body too overtaken by pain to really protest anymore. At that point, Sally just sheathed his own sword too. He had no more need for it right there and then anyway, the fight had been fought.
The fly stood there shaking until his knees gave out and he dropped to the floor. About that was the little spider’s cue to go and pick him up, throwing him over his shoulder. The sword he put in his own inventory for safekeeping until he found the time to actually go and store it in a better place again.
“P-poison… It’s a c-coward’s… t-tool,” the fly rasped softly, the words apparently costing a tremendous amount of energy to get out.
“You’re wrong. Poison is a prepared man’s tool,” Sally responded, before taking off. Flying with someone over his shoulder was slightly more difficult than he had anticipated, but it was still doable enough. Besides, his master’s web was not far, and he was certain his master would have some interesting ways to deal with the fly once he had told them what the fly had done.
And after that… Well. Sally was looking forward to seeing just how long the fly could stand his ground before inevitably giving in.
Notes:
So close to 100 chapters... Let's see what the next one will bring, shall we?
Also, just so we're clear, that fly was indeed Wels.
Chapter 100: Arc 3 - 24
Summary:
The eye in the sky sees all. The team grows.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
His head still hurt, but Cub knew he had to get going, to start doing things. Still, he allowed himself to remain on the beacon for just a bit longer, until his head stopped swimming every time he tried to stand up.
The capitalist had sent Jevin out ahead, just to make sure that the others knew of the situation, because there was no way he himself was going to climb the ladders up and down before going to the video room. That felt unsafe still, at that point, and Cub knew that now was not the time for taking risks. They had to figure out what to do next, how to get Xisuma back. And, probably more importantly, where Xisuma was. With a little bit of luck the raid party would have come across him on their way back, but Cub knew not to believe in that kind of luck. That simply wouldn’t happen in their situation, he was sure of it.
Getting to his feet was tough, but he managed anyway, and before too long he found himself shuffling towards the other room. Cub only paused long enough to pick up Xisuma’s helmet, slightly recoiling because of the claw marks that were visible in between the bits of diamond plating. Still, he had the feeling that he shouldn’t just leave the thing laying around. It felt… disrespectful, in a way, and Cub was not about to disrespect the man that had basically sacrificed himself for him.
He really did, didn’t he?
Cub swallowed, looking into the empty visor for a second before shuffling onwards. This was not the time to feel guilty. This was the time for action, for figuring out where their enemy was hiding, and for preparing another raid. Or well, maybe not a raid this time. Perhaps a full-on siege would be better. Either way, that was something he needed to figure out after the raid party had come back, after they had laid together all information they had. Only then could they figure out the weaknesses of their enemy and their base.
The route to the video room was not a long one, but it nevertheless left Cub coughing and wheezing with exertion by the time he finally fell down on the chair. He disliked it a whole lot, but at the same time, he knew it would get better over time, as long as he stayed in the range of the beacon. It would be slower than if he were to actually sit in the beam, but it was a sacrifice that he was going to need to make for now.
The screens were still on, showing various parts of both the bunker and the world above. Cub recognised basically every angle shown, and how could he not? He had stared at those very angles for days as he and the others of the tech team did surveillance. He recognised the hallways, he recognised the landscape. He recognised the animals that were still in their pens, and he recognised the buildings that now stood abandoned and covered in cobwebs. He recognised the walls and the paths and the way the grass blew in the wind, the way the waves crashed onto the shores, the way the mountains to the east were painted with orange flames.
But what he didn’t recognise was the lone figure walking over the HRN tracks between Xisuma’s base and the futuristic district. The raid party wouldn’t be coming from there, and for the rest… Basically everyone was accounted for. Sure, he didn’t know for certain where Arachne had sent their victims to, besides the bunker, but Cub had an inkling that this wasn’t one of their turned friends. The armour was wrong, it was too… Familiar, in a way. With a few presses of the keyboard, he changed the course of a drone to take a closer look.
At some point, the figure walking on the tracks must have noticed, as they looked up, straight into the camera.
For a moment, Cub blinked, his mind not computing what he was looking at. Then his eyes glid over to Xisuma’s helmet laying next to him, and back to the visor that was aimed straight at the drone.
They were copies, only differing in colour.
And that was it, wasn’t it? That betrayed who he was looking at. Now that he looked closer, he could see hints of red between the diamond plating, and he vaguely remembered seeing a death message for the man.
“Evil X…” he breathed, unsure what to do. He had tried to blow up the island, after all, and the admin’s brother had been following them between worlds for years now, and never with good intentions. At the same time, the threat that Ex posed was a whole lot smaller than that of Arachne, and Cub found that the idea of two of their enemies possibly teaming up was not all that desirable.
Should we bring him in, then? Is that safer?
Cub rubbed his forehead. It was a hard dilemma, but he was quite certain that bringing Ex in was the lesser of two evils. The next question would be who would be best to actually get him. Zedaph had had quite some interaction with the man over on their last world, which made him quite possibly the best choice, but at the same time, he wanted to send one of their best fighters, just in case. False, then? Or Doc?
With a sigh, the capitalist pulled his communicator from his pocket, opening up his private messages.
<Cubfan135> Zed, my man, when you get back, please head to the video room.
<Cubfan135> I have something only you can do
Then he switched over to his messages with False, then those with Doc, sending them both a comparable message.
<Cubfan135> When possible, please report to the video room. I have an escort mission for you.
Another sigh, and he put the thing down again. Until they arrived, he had to wait, and maybe do something else to help this whole situation along, and he was quite certain as to what he could do. With a few more presses on the keyboard, he set the drone into manual mode, and he flew it further down towards Evil X, making sure to stay out of the reach of his sword. Then, when it was at about eye level, he flew it around him in a circle a few times, just to deliberately catch his attention. As an afterthought, he unmuted the drone as well. Joe wouldn’t like it, probably, given that he was the one that had wanted to make sure that at least some modicum of privacy was maintained during the surveillance, but Cub reckoned that in this case, it was justified to listen in.
Immediately, the sounds of the ocean came rushing in, and Cub started piloting the drone to fly sidewards along the tracks, keeping an eye on Evil X.
“What brings you here, then? Did my brother program you to spy on me, even after he left?”
The words sounded bitter and sad, and Cub frowned.
Wait… How does he- Is he in line with Arachne already?
Still, he let the drone move as though it was a shaking head. It was a motion that stopped Evil X right in his tracks.
“Then why bother. Are you here to gloat? To mock? To rub it in my face that I’m alone here, that they all forgot about me?”
His words confused Cub even more than he already was. Had Ex somehow completely missed the memo about what was going on, or…? Again, he made the drone shake no, pause, and then shake no again. This would be easier if Ex just asked a question at a time, but there was no easy way for him to convey that. Sadly, he hadn’t quite gotten to implementing a speaker system onto the drones yet, so he couldn’t talk back, only listen and move the drone.
Cub watched how Ex shifted around on the screen, as though he was uncomfortable, confused, lost.
A knock sounded, and before Cub could answer, the door opened, and team ZIT came pouring in. Tango comfortably dropped down on one of the seats as though he owned it, while Impulse went and leaned against the wall, and Zed just kind of stood there, playing with the edge of his Henley.
“Hiya, Cub! You wanted to see me?” Zed asked, letting his eyes roam around the room before coming to a rest on the screen. “Wait, is that-“
“Evil X? Yep. I guess you know why I asked specifically for you to come.” Cub’s eyes went back to the screen, waiting for the admin’s brother to say something again.
“Huh… Does X know he’s there?” Tango asked, before his gaze fell on Xisuma’s helmet. His breath hitched in his throat and he blinked, and Cub couldn’t help but look away, almost as though in shame.
“Something happened, didn’t it?” Impulse concluded, and the capitalist swallowed heavily before nodding.
“Ren took X.” Right before my eyes. I couldn’t stop it. I should have let him take me instead, but I couldn’t. I failed. We lost, because of me.
His words hung heavy in the air, and for a short moment, the only sounds were that of the sea coming through the speakers.
“Oh.”
“Well, shit.”
“That’s bad.”
The trio spoke almost perfectly at the same time, each coming to their own conclusions. Then it was silent for a little again.
“Sooo… Now what?” Zed asked, his eyes drifting to Ex again.
“I’m planning on bringing Evil X in. I know he’s not everyone’s favourite, but right now we need every person we can get. After that… We’re going to need to regroup, pool intel, and figure out a new strategy.”
“I can do it.”
“That’s what I had hoped you would say.” Cub smiled slightly as he spoke, glad that he didn’t have to explain much more.
“Zed, are you sure? You know why he was banned, right?” Tango asked, a bit of worry in his words.
“I know, I really do, but don’t worry. He’d never hurt me. I know him.”
“Wait… Am I alone here?”
The sudden words sprung forth from the speakers, and Cub hurried to make the drone shake no again. And then all four of them watched as Ex fell to his knees in a motion that looked as though he could at any moment burst out in tears.
“Thank the Void! Thank the Void he didn’t leave me in That Place! But then… Did Xisuma release me?”
For a short moment, Cub exchanged an awkward look with team ZIT, before making the drone tilt to one side and then the other. He just hoped it would come over as ‘maybe’ or ‘I don’t know’, because that was going to be the best answer he had.
Again, Ex stared into the camera, his visor hiding most of what he was doing or feeling.
“You’re not my brother, then.”
It was a statement, not a question, but Cub still made the drone shake no.
“Then who…?” The words hung in the air for a bit. “Wait, that’s… You can’t answer that, of course. Just… Give me a moment. I need to think.”
“Cub, I’m gonna go get him. Right now. That man needs a hug. Impulse, Tango, it might be best if I do this alone, but if you two want to come, I’m not stopping you.” Zed seemed very certain of himself, and was already out the door before Cub could respond.
A few seconds later, he walked back in.
“Where is he, exactly?”
The capitalist resisted the urge to facepalm, and pulled up a map of the island on one of the screens. The various drones and cameras on it were marked as blinking red dots, and he pointed to the lone dot out at the sea near Mumbo’s base.
“Right there, for now, but I’ll see if I can get him a little bit closer while you’re on your way.”
Zedaph squinted at the map, taking in the location as best as he could before nodding.
“That’ll do. Alright, attempt number two!”
This time, when he left, he didn’t come back immediately, and Impulse and Tango exchanged a glance.
“I’ll go, you fill Cub in,” Impulse said, and the other man nodded.
“Sounds like a plan. Make sure he doesn’t do anything dumb.”
“C’mon, it’s Zed.”
“Right, doing dumb things is kind of his whole thing. Make sure it doesn’t have too many consequences, then.” Tango sighed before smiling.
“I’ll try. Well, gotta go, then. See you all in a bit.”
Impulse waved as he pushed himself away from the wall, and then walked out of the door.
“Okay, okay, I think- I think I got something. Are you a Hermit?” Ex asked a little bit after that, and Cub was happy to finally be able to make the drone move in a nodding motion.
“Good, good, okay, just… Okay. Uhm. Are you Xisuma?”
The drone shook no once more, and beside him, Cub heard Tango sigh.
“This is going to be the most painful game of guess who ever, won’t it?”
“Probably, yes,” Cub responded. Then he made the drone fly in a circle around Evil X, before flying down the tracks a little bit further.
“Do you want me to follow you?”
Again, a nod, and Ex stood up on trembling legs, before walking after the drone once more.
“Is Xisuma where you are?”
A shake.
“Do you know where he is?”
Another shake.
Cub looked over at Tango.
“Do you think this is a bad idea?” he asked, and Tango shrugged.
“I don’t know. He’s been banned for quite a while, so… it’s hard to say. Then again, it’s as you said: We need everyone we can get, especially-“ He stopped for a moment, his eyes set in the distance as though he was deep in thought.
“Especially…?”
“Especially with how the raid went. Cub, we only managed to get Python out before we got completely overwhelmed. That bastard had strung him up in a corridor like- like some kind of meat shield, and they weren’t even there. Not that we could see, anyway. It was like Python was the only person in that whole godforsaken place.” Tango sighed, before making eye contact. “But you said Ren was here?”
Now it was Cub’s turn to sigh.
“Yep. And if Jevin is to be believed, Iskall is still here, captured by TFC and Stress. Don’t ask me how they managed to do that, but… Yeah. It’s something, I guess. Now we just need Doc or Joe or whomever to work their magic and get him back to his old self.” His eyes flicked between Tango and the screen, where Evil X was still walking, seemingly deep in thought about his next question. “No sign of Scar or Grian or Wels, though. I hope they’re still in that lair, somehow, but… Yeah. I don’t have a lot of hope in that regard.”
Tango nodded.
“I get you, man. This whole situation is just… It sucks. It sucks badly.”
“It sure does.”
They fell silent again, just watching Mumbo’s base slowly get into view as Ex walked on and on. Then they could see Zedaph and Impulse emerging from within Mumbo’s portal building, through one of the few camera’s on that island that hadn’t broken. Cub still wasn’t too sure about what had happened there, but it seemed to be mechanical failure, as no amount of commands to reboot sent to them had actually yielded anything more than a black screen. There was no doubt in his mind that it had been something fishy, though. Something really, really fishy.
For a few seconds longer they watched the duo walk, before they spread their elytra and took off, speeding towards the railway.
“I hope at least one of them had the thought to restock on rockets, if I recall correctly they were almost out by the time we actually got back to the End portal,” Tango stated, watching his friends move out of sight of one camera and then into view of another.
“The End portal? Didn’t Jev say-“
“Yeah, but we didn’t trust it, so we flew back instead.”
Cub let out a low whistle.
“That explains why you guys were gone for so long.”
It was the sound of a blade being drawn that refocussed their attention back to the screen, where Zedaph and Impulse had landed, and Evil X didn’t seem to take too kindly to that. Or perhaps he just didn’t trust the situation, and Cub couldn’t blame him for it.
“Who are you? Who sent you?”
Ex stood in a defensive stance, and it looked like he was torn between staying, running away, or diving into the ocean.
Zedaph stepped forwards before Cub could do anything, his hands stretched out in a calming motion.
“Hey, hey, there’s no need for that. I’m Zedaph, and this is my friend Impulse. I’m pretty sure we’ve met before?” He flashed a smile as he spoke, not trying in the slightest to be threatening. Then again, it was Zed, and Cub honestly doubted he was able to even be threatening at all.
Still, he looked on as Evil X squinted at the duo.
“Wait... Zedaph? Wormman’s friend Zedaph?”
“The one and only!”
Cub looked at Tango.
“Wait, but wasn’t Wormman one of Zed’s personas?”
“Yes, but he thinks we don’t know. Impulse and I pretend we don’t, at the very least. Makes him feel good about being all heroic while in that pink suit of his.” The demon shrugged. “I guess Evil X didn’t make that connection, though.”
Ex, meanwhile, tentatively sheathed his sword again.
“I’ll trust you, then. Did he send you?”
This time, Impulse stepped forwards.
“He didn’t. Truth be told, I haven’t seen him in a while, but that’s not why we’re here.”
“Then why?” Ex took a step backwards, contrary to his statement of trusting them, his gaze shifting between the two men.
“We’re having a bit of a situation, and- Well, to be blunt, we need more manpower. You see, there’s-“ Impulse started, but Zedaph interrupted him.
“Your brother was kidnapped by a maniac set on world domination. He’s probably getting tortured right as we speak. We’re trying to get him and some of our other friends out of there.”
Immediately, Ex’s stance changed from a defensive one to one that felt more… Primal, in a way. Ready to attack.
“You should’ve started with that, Zedaph,” he growled. “I’m in. No one hurts my brother but me.”
Back in the video room, Cub blinked in confusion.
“What did I just witness?” he asked, to no one in particular, and Tango chuckled.
“Just Zedaph working his magic. He knows how to handle people.”
“I guess?”
Cub exhaled, shaking his head before making the drone fly in a circle around the duo and making it nod once.
“You’re working with the drones, then?” Ex asked, and Impulse nodded.
“We knew where you were thanks to it, so… Yeah. In any case, it’s best if we get going, it’s not safe outside. We’re bringing you to the rest. Do you want to fly, or do you prefer a minecart?”
The admin’s brother seemed to think for a moment, rubbing his hand over his chin.
“I… Don’t have an elytra or rockets. And I don’t have a minecart. I guess I don’t really care? It’s just whatever works best.”
Zedaph stepped a little bit closer.
“For your information, if you pick flying, we’re going to have to carry you between us. The minecart gives you a little bit more personal space, but it’ll also be a little bit slower.”
“Ah… I see. I’ll… No offense, but I’ll take the cart, then.”
Zed nodded cheerily, before dropping down a cart onto the tracks.
“No problem, man. We’ll give you a bit of a push to get you going, and from there we’ll just fly alongside you.”
Evil X nodded slowly, before clambering in, seemingly a little bit less nervous now. Seeing him sitting there, in the minecart, Cub wondered why anyone had ever thought the man to be intimidating, but he also knew it was probably best not to underestimate him.
“I’m ready.” He nodded, and Zedaph put his hands against the cart and started pushing it, speeding up slowly until he came past a set of powered rails, and the cart shot forwards. Then he jumped into the air and fired a rocket, keeping his promise to stay near.
Impulse lagged behind for a bit, before turning to the drone that was still hovering there.
“That should be all, right, Cub?”
He made the drone nod again, and Impulse smiled.
“Cool. I’ll be on my way too, then. See you in a bit!”
Impulse then too took off again, and Cub hit some buttons to make the drone return to its programmed path.
“Well… That went smoother than expected.”
“Tell me about it.”
Notes:
Triple digits, baby! And also neatly on my birthday still! Unlike last year I decided to not write 24k in a week, but yeah. I hope this still suffices ^^
Chapter 101: Arc 3 - 25
Summary:
Time for new leadership. Preparing for the future.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
<Stressmonster> We need to talk
<Stressmonster> Could everyone available come to the meeting room asap?
<Stressmonster> Fanks! <3
She typed her messages as she speed-walked her way through the bunker. Stress wasn’t happy in the slightest, and worry permeated her face. Between the raid party not having been able to get anyone back except Python, False having been wounded within an inch of her life, Mumbo having been kidnapped, and Ren being an enemy now… Their chances of coming out of the whole situation were getting slimmer and slimmer. Not to mention the uncertainty of whether Jevin had managed to find X and Cub in good health. Literally nothing about the situation was good.
She reached the meeting room in no time at all. Instead of sitting down in one of the many chairs, though, she started pacing up and down, unable to shake the tension from her body. Stress simply needed to move, to have the feeling that she was getting somewhere instead of just being stuck in whatever evil plan their enemy had spun.
It didn’t take long for others to start arriving either. Doc was there, followed a few seconds later by Tango. Cleo and Joe arrived about at the same time, confusion and worry on their faces.
And that was it. No others came in, not even when Stress gave it a minute more. The ice queen inhaled through her teeth, her brow furrowing.
“Is that all?” she asked, and whatever bit of chatter had been there faded completely.
“Seems like it. TFC and Keralis would have been here, but they’re taking care of False and Python, so like… not too bad of a turn-up, I guess? And Cub seemed to have some kind of escort mission, but he messaged me my help was no longer needed, so I don’t know what’s up with that,” Doc spoke, idly sitting on the table.
“Oh, I do. Cub sent out Zed and Impy to recruit Evil X. Which was successful, for the record. They aren’t here yet, though, and Cub didn’t want to leave the camera’s alone.” Tango was playing with some fire that was dancing around his fingertips, with a decidedly unhappy look on his face.
“Wait, you guys went to get Evil X?” Cleo asked. “You didn’t miss the ‘evil’ bit of his name, did you?”
“Look, look, I know. We’re not sure to what extent we can trust him, but… Well. We figured we had no choice.” The demon sighed and looked at the ground. “Stress, I know you called this meeting, but… Can I make an announcement?”
Stress blinked, unsure of what to think, but nodded quickly anyway. After all, it probably wasn’t going to distract from her point too much anyway.
“Go ahead, luv.”
“Right. Yes.” Tango sighed again and looked up, making brief eye contact with the others. “Look, there’s… There’s no good way to say it. No real gentle way or anything, so I’m not going to bother with that. Ren took X.” He pressed his lips together, monitoring the reaction of the others.
Stress felt her heart sink into her stomach. So far for the odds.
“Oh…”
Doc punched the table, muttering curses under his breath, while Joe simply paled. Cleo balled her fists but looked otherwise unfazed.
“That’s… That’s bad, innit?” Stress finally said, looking around. Tango just nodded, looking her straight in the eyes.
“Well, it sure sets the tone for this meeting. I uh.. I’m afraid I got more bad news. Grian took Mumbo. On a slightly more positive note, though, I managed to get through to Iskall, so that’s something.” She sighed, hugging herself for some comfort.
“Now what, then? We’re without leadership, thanks to Ren. We- I don’t know how we ought to proceed. How do we recover from such a heinous deed?” Joe spoke with a bit of a tremble in his voice, as though it cost him a lot of effort to keep focussed on his usually effortless rhyming.
“We have to mount another attack, that much is clear. We can’t, though. Not yet. We don’t have the resources after today’s raid.” Doc stroked his chin, his eyes set on the edge where the walls met the ceiling. “The question is how much time we allow ourselves for preparations before heading back into the End.”
Stress bit her bottom lip, rapidly tapping her fingers on her arm as she continued her pacing.
“That’s the question, alright. Every minute we spent may just be a minute too much for those captured, but- Well. If we don’t go in this the right way, it’s just gonna blow up in our faces, innit?”
“Mmhmm… Whatever happens, I think we only have one shot at this. If we fail… Well. That’s going to mean it’s all over.” Cleo’s tone barely shifted as she spoke, preferring to just state the facts.
“It sure seems that way. So, what now?” Doc hopped down from the table and looked around, briefly making eye contact with everyone present.
It was uncomfortably silent for a bit, and Stress made a decision. Although she was no admin, she still was the only one of the bunch that had an official title. Alright, technically Cleo was a captain, but queen beat captain in rank.
“I’ll step up as leader for now, until we get X back, if that’s alright by you all? It ain’t optimal, I know that, but… Well, we need someone to coordinate fings, right?” She glanced around, trying to radiate some kind of calmness that she knew was just a façade, but it would have to do for now.
“You got a point there, Stress. I don’t mind it,” Tango nodded, briefly smiling at her before focussing on his fire again.
Cleo, on the other hand, seemed less convinced.
“Stress, I- While I don’t think you’d be a bad leader, I’m a tad worried your arachnophobia might get in the way of your judgement, if you catch my drift.”
The ice queen sighed at that. The zombie had a point and she knew it.
“Look, luv, I’m… Yes, I’m not the best around spiders, but I fink it just makes me less likely to take unnecessary risks, right?” She made some gestures as she spoke. “If anyone else wants to step up, though, go for it.”
It was silent for a bit, and she looked from person to person.
“I have a question, Stress,” Doc started. “You are not all too strategically minded; how do you plan on overcoming that if you would lead us?” A small smile crept up on her face at the question. This was the one thing she could answer without trouble.
“A good queen doesn’t rule alone, Doc, nor would a good leader lead alone. I have all of you to get advice and opinions from, right, and I reckon I’d be quite good at aggregating that all and coordinating our actions.”
“That’s all I wanted to know. I accept you stepping up.” The cyborg nodded contently, and Stress widened her smile.
“Then it’s decided? The leadership, I mean. For I have no issue swearing fealty to our own ice queen.” Joe seemed to have regained his composure a little, looking straight at her before making a bow. It felt so weird and out of place that Stress couldn’t help but giggle.
“Oh, stop it you,” she chuckled as the poet straightened his back again, before turning to the zombie.
“Cleo…?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
“Hmm… If you think you can handle it, I’m not going to question you further. Just wanted to make sure you had thought about the whole fear-of-spiders thing.”
Stress found herself sighing in relief.
“Good, good. Then… I guess we should figure out how to get X and the others out of the claws of that monster. All of you went on the raid, right? How did that go? What kind of resources did you all miss having?” She looked around, before grabbing some paper and a quill, ready to note down whatever the others would say.
It didn’t come that far, though. Instead, they heard running footsteps approaching until Jevin skidded to a halt in the doorway, bracing himself against the doorpost as he panted.
“Guys! There you are, I was already wondering- In any case, I have news. Ren-“
“Took X? We know,” Doc finished dryly, and Jevin blinked.
“Wait, how- Ugh, you know what, never mind that. What did I miss here?” He sighed and shook his head, after which Tango gave him a short recap.
“Okay, okay, I wasn’t part of the raid party, but I’m just gonna say milk. We all need to have milk easily accessible. That bastard made Iskall and Ren use poisoned blades, and I don’t doubt the spiders themselves have venomous bites, like cave spiders do.”
Stress saw Jevin subconsciously rubbing his wrist, the difference in colour telling the story of what had happened to it.
“I’ll note that down, fanks for the reminder luv. What else did you all miss?”
It started a bit of a discussion that turned into a full-on evaluation of how the raid had gone. Stress took notes all throughout it, both when points of improvement were named and when needed gear was discussed. It was a shame they wouldn’t be able to prepare for absolutely everything, but they were going to have to sacrifice some preparedness for viability and some for speed. Not too much, though, even if the ice queen wasn’t all too sure yet where exactly that precarious balance laid.
Still, it did bring them to the next step, which was figuring out where they were going to get the various resources from. Gunpowder and paper were the main concerns this time around, given that they already had basically all necessary armour and weaponry. Potions were next, specifically some splash potions of harming and some of healing or regeneration. Milk, multiple bottles per person just in case. Enchanted shears to get through webs, torches to light up the area, buckets of water to flush away spiders… It was a long list, but that was alright. They had enough people to gather the resources, and then enough additional people to take on the variety of other things that needed doing, like finally taking care of the fire that was still raging in the mountains, or crafting rockets and brewing potions, or caring for the wounded and brainwashed.
In the end, it was Doc that helped her figure out the most efficient way to split the work, taking into account the farms the various Hermits had, the proximity of said farms, as well as the strengths and weaknesses they were dealing with. It wasn’t something she would have been able to do herself, and not just because she wasn’t entirely in the loop of some of the more technical details. The way the cyborg was able to just take the data they got and change it into something manageable was almost magical, but Stress felt like it was a talent anyone could develop when working with ridiculous farms and crafting pipelines a lot. Almost a prerequisite even, judging by some of the industrial-level farms around.
Stress took a moment to send everyone their respective tasks, and then stood up and finally left the meeting room too. She hadn’t quite planned to be the person in charge, but she was going to do her best to lead her friends through everything until they got Xisuma back and in a working shape. After that, she’d be more than happy to step down again.
For now, though, she had things to do, people to take care of, potions to brew. It wasn’t much, but it sure was a step in the right direction.
Notes:
Sorry this took a while, I'm in the last few weeks of uni for the year and the deadlines are racking up. Starting next week I should have more time to write again, so be on the lookout for more chapters in July!
Chapter 102: Arc 3 - 26
Summary:
Talks, truth, and tea.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
His feet had easily lead him down the ladder, down to the floor that held some of their less fortunate friends. They were silent, just sitting there, and Joe was not sure whether he should consider that a good thing or a bad thing. Of course, it would definitely be a bad thing were he to figure out that there was in fact no one sitting there anymore, and that that was the reason for it being so quiet, but he had hope in his heart that his luck was not quite so abysmal.
The poet walked further down the hall, glancing in through the windows of the glorified cells on the level, and he let out a sigh of relief when he saw that Iskall was still sitting where Stress had said she had left him. That was the person he was most worried about, despite Biffa being the more competent fighter of the two. The truth was, he was relatively certain that Biffa would not just attack him on sight anymore, whereas he didn’t have that same kind of faith in the swede. Still, nothing a good and long conversation wouldn’t fix, although Joe wondered whether he would be the right person for a talk such as that. Stress would be more likely to have the result they were looking for, given how long she had been friends with Iskall already. Certainly, Grian or Mumbo or even Scar would also have a shot at talking him back to his senses, were it not for the fact that those three were currently either missing in action or definitely in need of a good talking to themselves.
His eyes lingered on Iskall for a moment longer, before he dragged himself further forwards, down to the door that shielded Biffa from view. They hadn’t quite given him the luxury of privacy, not just yet, but at the very least the door had no windows inside of it. The same thing could not be said for the window frame sitting in the wall right next to it, though, instantly disproving the whole idea that a windowless door equated privacy in any manner.
Nevertheless, privacy or not, Joe still knocked on the door, waiting for a response from Biffa before entering.
“Come on in!” sounded his voice not a few seconds later, and the poet was happy to do so.
Biffa was still sitting right where he had left him, chained to a chair, but at the very least it seemed like the green lines that had been zigzagging over his body were fading slowly. His eyes were blue again as well, which definitely was a relief too. It meant Biffa was getting better, that he was resisting the dreadful influence of their nemesis and showing them that the power of poetry, tea, and friendship could overcome even the most difficult of problems.
“Howdy, Biffa, my friend! How are you holding up here, near the hallway’s end?” he asked, a smile on his face as he moved a chair to be across from the man. For a short moment he looked at it, before turning it around so that the backrest was turned towards Biffa. That way, Joe could use it as a nice armrest while he sat. Proper chair use could be seen as good etiquette, but the problem with good etiquette was the fact that it sometimes was just rather impractical or unergonomic.
Not that the way he wanted to sit was anywhere near ergonomic, but that was a problem he personally would deal with.
“Oh, hello Joe! I’d love to say I’m doing well, and I guess I kind of am, taking the circumstances into account, but yeah. I thought someone would be checking on me every now and then, but no one came here, just to other places in the hall. It’s a bit lonesome, not gonna lie.” The robot shrugged, but smiled anyway. “Did I miss anything too important? Actually, scrap that, it’s… I’m not sure if you should tell me sensitive information yet.” Biffa’s smile faltered as he set his eyes on infinity.
Joe looked at him and sighed, his gaze falling to the ground.
“I see what you’re getting at… I could tell you the rough lines instead, would you like that? No plans or anything, of course, just things you could discover without all too much force.”
It was silent for a bit, in which only the sounds of their breathing echoed through the room. The poet looked up again, examining how Biffa acted. He seemed lost in thought, internally conflicted about this thing or that. Joe could hardly blame him for it. After all, if there was any one singular hermit that was fighting a battle in their own mind, it was Biffa, what with everything he had gone through.
“Mmm… That would be nice, yes,” the robot said in the end, after frowning and blinking a few times.
“Well then, let’s go at it from the very start. That is, before everything here seemingly started falling apart.” There was a wry smile on Joe’s face as he spoke, and Biffa gasped softly.
“Oh. Oh no. That bad?”
“Sadly, only a little bit of what I said was meant as a hyperbole. After all, when misfortune comes, it never comes alone, that’s almost a guarantee. Misfortune has a name, and in this case that name was Ren. He also did not come alone, for he had taken Iskall along on their mission from the spider’s den. They’ve both been turned in much the same way as you were, at least, there were similarities, I have to concur. The exact details as to how that happens, I hoped you could fill in, if there lies not too much trauma therein. In any case, as I was saying, Ren and Iskall came here. They fought their way in, and tried to spread that spider’s aura of fear. Of course there was resistance, as Hermits are apt to provide, and before long we managed to put between them a significant divide. TFC and False, Stress and Jevin, they are the heroes of this story, even though none of them seems want to boast with the glory. The wounds they have suffered were severe and many, and while they tended to themselves Ren went and slipped away. What he thought, I’ll never know, but it seems like he was searching for someone he could slay.”
Joe paused for a moment, taking a short breather as he looked for Biffa’s response. Once more, he seemed deep in thought, with a bit of a pained expression on his face. He didn’t say anything, though, nor did he stop the poet from continuing, and as such, what else could Joe do but keep speaking?
And so he told Biffa about the fact that Ren had taken Xisuma. He tried to bring the news as calmly and gently as he could, knowing how close the robot and the admin were and for how long that had been the case, but he should have known that it ultimately would do very little to change Biffa’s feelings about the matter. Joe watched as his brows furrowed together, his lips pressing together in a thin line and his hands balling together into fists. He didn’t seem happy in the slightest.
“That… That’s bad. Like, very much so. Not as bad as it will be for Arachne once I can lay my hands on them, but still.” His fists shook as he made eye contact with Joe. “I will get them back for everything they’ve done. For messing with my mind, for the horrible things they’ve made me do, and for taking my best friend. I swear.”
“I’m certain you will, and I won’t hold you back once that time comes. I’ll just stand at the side-line, encouraging you while raising my thumbs.” Joe smiled slightly as he reached out a hand to put on Biffa’s shoulder.
“Thanks, Joe. That being said, I want to be helpful before that time comes as well. So… While my memory is admittedly a bit of a mess, I still know a few things that I can share, and I can at the very least try to answer your questions. Like the one you asked just now, about how- About how Arachne turns people into willing followers.”
Biffa sighed and closed his eyes, and Joe sat a little bit straighter in his chair, trying to pay as much attention as he could. This, this had been a mystery he had been thinking about for a while, and if he knew how the turning happened… maybe he could find a way to reverse it.
“Do excuse me, because that part of my memories is very hazy. I’m not sure if- The process might have changed, I don’t know, but when I… It started the moment I accepted their mark. They had been pushing for it, waiting for me to say yes to it, trying to… convince me to accept it in any way they could, so I assume that was important. Then… Uh… Give me a moment, I- I need to think back.” He fell silent, and his face twisted in a mixture of sadness and pain. Joe didn’t push, knowing to have patience. Besides, it very much seemed like they had at least some time to talk. Another raid would not be happening for at least a day, and getting information from Biffa was actually one of the main tasks he had at that point. Pushing and trying to guide the robot through this at a faster pace would only lead to hurt feelings and the resurfacing of trauma at a rate neither of them was prepared to deal with.
“From the moment I was marked, I- The mark is the green veins and everything, by the way. They just kind of poked a finger into my core and did something to me to the point of me falling unconscious because of how much it hurt. And after that- Well, from that point on I- My mind wasn’t my own. There were thoughts that just… They tried to convince me Arachne’s side was the right side. They slipped in, making me say things, think things I didn’t mean to say or think. It was… It wasn’t fun, noticing how your own mind rebels against you until-“ Biffa paused, taking a deep breath. His voice was a bit shaky, and Joe started gently rubbing his shoulder to let him know he was there. “Until you give up, until you give in. And then… You just- you just get thrown to the side as those other thoughts take over, making you move and do things you didn’t want to do, making you feel things you didn’t want to feel. At first- At first I tried to fight back, Joe, but- but it just didn’t work. Those other thoughts, that other me was so strong, so damned strong, pushing me back and away every time I tried something. I think I managed to break through, a few times, but only for a few seconds, and the moment Arachne noticed… I-I don’t want to think about it.”
A shudder went through the robot, and Joe was certain he saw the beginnings of tears welling up.
“Hey, hey, don’t strain yourself, you don’t have to. This already is a lot of information, and for that I thank you.” The poet quickly stood up from where he was sitting and moved to give Biffa a hug. The poor guy deserved one, after everything that had happened, it was the very least he could do. “You’re safe here, we’ll make sure they can’t get to you anymore. We’ll protect you until you join the frontlines with renewed vigour.”
He could hear Biffa swallow heavily before leaning into the hug. He didn’t come all too far thanks to his bonds, which for the first time seemed to bother him.
“Joe, can you- can I- Please. Please untie me. I-I need to know I’m…” he trailed off and let out a noise of frustration. Joe pulled back a little and realised just how close to crying Biffa seemed.
“I… I’m not sure if I can do that. I’m- Actually, screw it, this won’t lead to a coup d’état.”
The robot sighed in relief as Joe started undoing the restraints one by one. The poet kept a close eye on his friend, ready to stop the moment it seemed Biffa would lose control. Void knew they simply didn’t have the manpower to deal with it should he go on a rampage again, but at the very least for now it seemed as though the man had himself under control.
The moment his arms were freed he hugged himself, and Joe realised just how vulnerable Biffa looked in that moment. It wasn’t what he was used to seeing, it wasn’t how the man usually was.
Hmm… Perhaps I need to make sure there’s someone with him at all times, both to keep an eye on him and to keep him company. I’ll let Stress know I’ll be taking a little bit longer here.
He silently continued untying Biffa until the last of his bonds fell to the floor.
“There you go, is that better?” Joe asked, standing up and giving the robot a once-over. It looked as though the green lines on his body had faded even further, which was a good thing. Still, they weren’t quite gone yet, and he wondered how long it would take for that to happen. That being said, he had high hopes that the lines would fade completely over time.
Biffa nodded and hummed in agreement, hugging himself a little bit tighter before looking the poet in the eyes again.
“Yes, this… I… Yes. This is better.”
A slight smile appeared on Joe’s lips as he stepped back, gesturing for Biffa to stand up.
“Go ahead, stand and stretch. There’s no need for you to keep sitting there like a wretch.”
It took a moment for the robot to process the words, looking at Joe with wide eyes before carefully following what he said. He visibly relaxed as he worked the stress of hours of sitting in the same position out of his system, stretching his arms and legs, taking his time to go over basically all of the pneumatic systems in his body to recalibrate them.
“Oh, yes… I needed that. This is so much better. I- Thank you, Joe. Really. This means a lot to me.” Biffa stood there, shifting his weight from leg to leg as he tried to find a way to stand that wasn’t too awkward. His hands moved around restlessly as well, as though he just couldn’t figure out where to place them. His hips seemed wrong, as did leaving them hang, and he didn’t even want to start about holding them behind his back.
“Could we… Could we have another cuppa tea?” Biffa asked after a bit, and Joe hummed.
“Mmhmm… Of course we can, I’ll go arrange some. I will have to lock the door, though, just in case you-“ he stopped himself just before finishing his sentence. Succumb, that would have been the last word, and he doubted it was something the robot wanted to hear right there and then. “Either way, don’t you worry, we’ll have that tea. Just give me a moment, I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Joe smiled at Biffa, who had in the meanwhile begun pacing in the few blocks between the chairs, anxious to keep moving. It seemed like everything would be fine, as though he could leave the robot alone for a few moments without worry. Biffa seemed lucid and in control enough, without even the tiniest shimmer of those brainwashed thoughts shining through.
He left the cell again, locking it behind him as he went up to the kitchen to boil some water and grab some mugs. As he walked, he shot some haikus towards Stress about lowering Biffa’s security measures and about making a schedule for people to keep him company. She seemed enthusiastic about it, even for her, which seemed to be a good thing. Nevertheless, Joe still claimed responsibility should something happen because of his judgement, which he deemed as the only fair way to go about it. He didn’t mind sitting with Biffa more than the others, in cases where there was no other convenient way to schedule people for accompanying duty, and should things go wrong… Well. The poet trusted his words, and he was relatively certain he’d be able to keep the robot at bay for long enough for reinforcements to arrive. Not that he thought it was a probable scenario, but still, it was good to be prepared.
The poet improvised a few little songs as the water was boiling on the furnace. Something about lecterns and full cauldrons, and later a few lines about the passage of time and dreaming. At some point, he’d consider maybe turning those little drabbles into full songs, but right there and then, he had too much on his plate already. It was a shame that once again the demands of the world had to go before the demand for more art, but such was life. Just one minor inconvenience after the other.
What wasn’t a minor inconvenience, though, was the kettle that started whistling as if on cue. Sometimes, the world was still a really nice place. Joe picked a few mugs from the cupboard and tossed in the teabags before pouring in the water. It would steep in the time it took him to get back to Biffa, but if he desired for his tea to be stronger, well… That was easily arranged. After all, there would be nothing in the slightest stopping him from just leaving the bag in some longer.
And so Joe navigated through the hallways, back down the ladder in two goes in order to not spill scalding hot water over his hands, and then back to Biffa’s cell. Joe knocked briefly as he arrived there, waiting for an answer to come.
It didn’t, though.
It just remained silent behind the door.
The poet put the mugs down on the ground before opening up the lock as fast as it would go, drawing his sword from his inventory as he went. As the door opened, though, the robot didn’t come into view. He wasn’t where he had been when Joe had left him, and he felt his heartbeat speed up.
This isn’t good. This is wrong, this is wrong, were we too early? Is Biffa-
Then his eyes fell on the bed on the other side of the room, and to the shape that had nestled itself underneath the thick blankets. Joe exhaled in relief as he stepped closer, wary for traps, but nothing in the slightest happened, except for soft breathing from the robot’s side.
He must’ve been exhausted, if he fell asleep that quickly… Oh well. Good for him.
Joe put away the sword and went to grab the mugs of tea, putting one of them onto the table, and keeping the other one for himself. He pulled up a chair, so he could keep watch over Biffa, and then sat down, slowly sipping from his tea. Things would be alright. He started humming a little bit of a melody, and then he started singing softly, going along with the rhythm he had just thought up.
“Laaaay your head down and dream, laaaay your head down and dream, just let your mind float downstream, sprawled out in a moonbeam. Laaaay your head down, and dream.”
Notes:
I'm not sure why, but Joe has this wonderful tendency of just stretching out chapters with what I can only assume is coordinated nonsense. Oh well.
Chapter 103: Arc 3 - 27
Summary:
Welcome to the base. Questions asked.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The minecart trip was a strange experience to say the least. Evil X wasn’t used to people anymore, especially not people that were as chatty as these Impulse and Zedaph were. It was a lot, but at the very least his silence didn’t lead to them asking all too many questions. Maybe they had realised he needed a moment to adjust, or maybe they were just rude, he wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, the journey gave him all the time he needed to get his mind together.
He was going to help out the Hermits in getting his brother back. It wasn’t something he would have ever thought he would be doing, and yet, there he was. He wasn’t doing it for them, though, and he needed to find a way to make that clear. He was doing this for himself. For himself and for no one else. He just needed to have a way to lay his fingers on his brother, and he couldn’t do that if said brother was kidnapped.
Ugh. Such a bother.
The wheels of the cart rattled on as it went over the tracks, the surroundings changing as it went. Where there was nothing but ocean visible at first, the longer he went, the more land came into view, as well as a few very large buildings that seemingly just cropped up from the sea floor. He could see a rocket, suspended just above the platform it was seemingly lifting up from, and the tracks went upwards, spiralling towards it before briefly stopping in what had to be a station. Then it continued on again as Zedaph pressed a button on the floor, and for the shortest moment, Ex had to fight off the feeling that the button would simply drop him back into That Place. He closed his eyes shut, hoping, just hoping that everything would turn out alright, and when he still heard sounds a few seconds later, he gingerly opened them again. Again, the surroundings had changed, and this time he could see a variety of larger buildings littering the ground of what he recognised as the Sahara campus.
It certainly had grown since the last time he had been there, with new buildings popping up in various locations, and the old ones seemed to now be filled with all kinds of mechanism. The tracks followed the slope of the land, so that it was a number of meters above the ground at every moment. The two Hermits lowered the altitude at which they were flying, too, seemingly chatting for a moment before the one in the black shirt set off a few more rockets, speeding up and flying off. Ex squinted, unsure of what was going on, and he looked at Zedaph in question.
“Where is he going?” he asked, pointing after Impulse. He didn’t trust it. How could he trust it? Was he going to prepare something to send him back to where he came from, despite the conversation they had had just a little bit earlier? He rapidly rapped his fingers on the edges of the cart, biting his lip. There was no denying he was nervous.
Betrayal is… yellow. I thought it would be green, but it’s yellow.
“Oh, no worries, he’s gone ahead to check whether the station is safe. I don’t think anyone’s been there for a while, and I’d rather not lead you into a spider-infested place if I can help it.” Zedaph smiled at him, and somehow, the smile felt familiar. It put him at ease, making the worries drain from his system without difficulty. It was almost the same smile as Wormman had had, and if he wasn’t already doing so before, Ex would’ve trusted Zedaph because of it. He knew he probably shouldn’t, and yet…
“That makes sense, I guess. I think spiders killed me before, as well. What’s with all of them, anyway?” he asked, looking to the side. Zedaph’s face hardened, his easy smile falling from his lips.
“Well, you’ll get the full story once we get back to the bunker, but… Yeah. Spiders are kind of our arch-nemeses right now. They’re right bastards, their leader the most of all. That’s the one that took Xisuma, by the way.”
Evil X’s brow furrowed at that.
“I do want to know how that came to be. Aren’t spiders usually… I don’t know, easily defeated?”
“Usually, yes. These ones are bigger, though. And meaner. And a lot bigger. Did I say ‘bigger’ yet?” Zedaph forced a smile to his lips again and looked forward. Evil X followed his gaze, and saw how the minecart tracks started took a sharp turn and then another one into another station, a ground-level one this time. It was a large white concrete building, decorated in red and orange, and Impulse was standing next to the tracks and waving at them. It more than probably meant that it was safe to continue, although he wasn’t all too sure if there was really any way to stop the minecart right there and then if it wasn’t safe.
A little later, the cart ground to a halt when it drove over a few special minecart tracks, and Zedaph touched down next to him, holding out a hand to help him stand up.
“Welcome to the Modern District! Or, well, welcome back! We aren’t quite there yet, but the last bit we will have to walk. The entrance to the bunker is not all too far away from here, actually. It’s fine. It’s fine, I tell you. The entrance should be close enough to comfortably walk aboveground, especially with Cub’s surveillance on the area.”
Ex looked around inside of the station, before raising an eyebrow. He still wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, and he didn’t quite know how to even start asking questions. Still, Zedaph was at the very least giving him information.
“That’s true. You want to head there in a straight line, then?” Impulse asked as he came walking in. He had swapped out his elytra for a chestplate, and had his sword and shield drawn, seemingly ready for combat. Evil X looked from him back to Zedaph and back again before pulling out his own sword as well, as non-threateningly as he could muster. These people… They had the advantage, not him. It was best to keep them as friends for now. Then again, somehow, he doubted that they would try to attack him by that point. It would have been a lot easier to do so earlier, when they still had the element of surprise. Now, though…
Zedaph was seemingly also struggling to get his elytra unequipped, some of the straps not entirely working with him, and Impulse was quick to help, actually turning his back to Evil X as he did so.
Was it a trap? A test, to see what he would do? Were they trying to lure him into doing something he shouldn’t do, just so they had a reason to send him back to That Place? Or were they simply careless and trusting? He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to ask. Instead, he tightened his grip around his sword, letting his eyes glide around and take in details.
“Aaaalright, all set. That should be everything, then. Let’s get going, Zed,” Impulse spoke after half a minute, and he started jogging out of the station, moving into the shadows of the next building as he looked around, before gesturing for the other two to come closer. Ex looked over at Zedaph questioningly, and the man nodded at him in encouragement.
“Go ahead, we’re almost there. And don’t worry, while Impulse over there might seem a bit reserved at first, he’s actually a really good guy. A bit whacky, even. Now, go, go, go!” Zedaph gave him a last smile before running after the other man, and Ex nodded to himself.
Alright. Alright. This… This is fine. This is all fine. I’m just about to head into a place where most people heard the wrong stories about me. It’s fine.
He ran over as well, and the trio stayed in the shadows for just a little bit longer until Impulse was sure it was clear. Then he ran ahead again, followed by another gesture to come after him, and that’s how they continued the rest of the way through the district, towards a slightly wooded area, and then through it, onto a clearing. There was a circle of obsidian standing there, and Ex opened up his mouth in confusion. He could not imagine what that circle had been for, although the fact that it was two blocks tall told him it was probably meant to keep something in.
Impulse didn’t acknowledge it, though, and neither did Zedaph, instead opting to move around it, and into an obviously human-made entrance into the cliff. Only there did they lower their weapons, even going so far as to put them away before high-fiving.
“I’d call that mission succeeded for once,” Impulse said with a grin, and Zedaph chuckled.
“Definitely! Now let’s hope we can keep up the good work.”
The duo walked further into the hallway, until they were a little bit removed from the entrance. Then Zedaph turned around.
“Well, Ex, welcome to the bunker! I think the others know by now that we’ve gone to pick you up, so they shouldn’t attack you on sight or do anything rude. If they do, though, just tell me and I’ll deal with them for ya.” He smiled widely, spreading his arms as though to point out the grandeur of their location. It was a gesture that frankly didn’t do a whole lot for Evil X, though. He didn’t quite get what was so special about some tunnels hewn out from the rock, but apparently Zedaph was quite enthusiastic about it.
At the same time, Impulse took out his communicator and started typing away some message or the other. Ex frowned as it caught his gaze, and despite the apparent alliance he had formed, he still found it hard to just start trusting Impulse.
“Oh! We should probably set you up with a room for while you’re here, and give you a tour of the place. It can be a bit of a maze, and we wouldn’t want you getting lost down in the connected strip mine. Though, if you come across a gruff old man, it’s best to call it a ‘branch mine’ instead. It’ll probably make him like you faster, which is a good thing, ‘cause he built this place and is basically our quartermaster. Are you up for that? The tour and the room, I mean.” Zedaph kept smiling at him, but in what seemed like a genuine way, and not in a way that made him think the man wanted something from him.
“I think so?” Ex responded, and Zedaph clapped his hands together.
“Wonderful! Let’s get this going, then!” He grinned broadly, and finally, Impulse looked up from his communicator.
“I’m going to have to pass, Zed. Duty calls. Stress wants to be briefed about all this, since she’s apparently become our interim leader, so I’ll go talk her through it. See you two later!” He waved shortly, before jogging off further into the bunker. Almost instantly, Evil X could feel himself relaxing, despite Zedaph having vouched for the man.
“Aww, that’s a shame! Oh well. We’ll start on the upper floors, and work our way down. Might make a quick pitstop in the kitchen when we pass it as well, cause I haven’t eaten since just before the raid, and I’m positively starving.” The man started walking, gesturing for Ex to follow, and he gladly did so, taking in all the sights in the bunker while Zedaph rambled on and on about this thing or that. Now that food was mentioned, Ex found it hard to ignore the rumbling of his own stomach. How long was it ago since he had last eaten actual food? He wasn’t even sure. He hadn’t eaten after he had managed to break out from That Place, and his body had more or less been in stasis while he had been in there, so… Before. It had to have been somewhere Before. Perhaps it was best to at least try to eat something.
“Uhm… Zedaph? Can we go to the kitchen first?” he asked, and the other man stopped in his tracks, turning around on his heels.
“Of course! Of course we can! Silly me, I should’ve asked if you needed anything before I started dragging you around this place. Sorry for that!” Then he seemed to think for a moment. “Actually, how do you eat? If I recall correctly, you- uh, Wormman said you can’t really breathe Overworld air, but you need to take your helmet off for eating. So how does that work?”
Evil X wanted to answer, already opening up his mouth. Then he realised he didn’t quite know the answer. He felt like he usually went to the End to eat, or to the roof of the Nether, but he doubted either of those places was currently accessible.
“I’m… Not sure. Not while breathing Overworld air, that’s for certain. Ugh. Xisuma undoubtedly has some smart solution for the problem but I refuse to ask him, even if I could.” Ex let out an annoyed sigh and crossed his arms, while Zedaph rubbed his chin.
“Well, we could have a little rummage through his office, see what we can find?” Zedaph didn’t even so much as flinch or change his expression as he proposed it, saying it with an amount of calm that suggested it wasn’t the first time he had done things like that. “I know he at the very least has a mask Doc made for him, but he also can’t eat through that, so… There has to be something else there. Unless of course X stores it in his enderchest, in which case we have a different issue, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
Evil X couldn’t help but blink.
“Sorry, but are we going to steal from him? Is that what you are trying to say here?” He couldn’t quite believe it. Hermits would actually go against his brother? He could use that.
“Weeeeell… I wouldn’t call it stealing, more like, borrowing without asking? Besides, he probably won’t notice, he’s not even here!” Zedaph seemed way too happy about it, basically smiling from ear to ear.
“I’m in. I’m definitely in.” Ex grinned.
“What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go rummage!”
Notes:
You could in theory go and now read this crackfic as it's a nice continuation of the topic discussed near the end there, but it's just a suggestion ;)
Chapter 104: Arc 3 - 28
Summary:
Sometimes, healing wounds fixes other things than you'd imagine.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
<Stressmonster101> It’s good to hear he’s asleep
<Stressmonster101> Makes it easier to figure out a schedule for keeping watch too
<Stressmonster101> As long as he’s dreamin’ people can just keep busy wiv their own fings
<Stressmonster101> In any case, keep me updated luv <3
She smiled gently as she put her communicator away. With basically everything she needed to do taken care of, it was finally time to get back to patching up Iskall. The poor guy needed some medical attention, both for his mechanical parts and for his flesh parts. Luckily for Iskall, Stress had managed to find a moment where both her and Doc were available, so they would hopefully be able to hit two birds with one stone.
The ice queen stood up from her chair in her impromptu brewing room, and she was just about to head down to the cells when she realised it was probably best to at least leave a message as the where others could find her should they need her. Certainly, most Hermits would be able to use their communicators to just ask when they needed to know, but there was always Jevin, who didn’t have his anymore, as well as Evil X, who… Stress wasn’t sure whether he even had a communicator to begin with. The main meeting room was probably the best place for leaving a message, and as such, she didn’t spend much time thinking and just walked over there. Then Stress got a bit of paper and a quill from her inventory, and noted down she could be found in the brig with Iskall in a neat and swirly handwriting.
She had barely laid the note on the table before her communicator beeped, and with a sigh she realised more people wanted things from her.
Is this how Xisuma feels all the time?
<ImpulseSV> Hi! We’re back with Evil X
<ImpulseSV> Where can I find you? Then I can give you a quick rundown
<Stressmonster101> I’m still in the meeting room, was about to go patch up Iskall wiv Doc
<Stressmonster101> Can we walk & talk??
<ImpulseSV> Sure thing, I’ll be there in a moment
She put her communicator away again, and wandered over to the wall that held all their information up until that point. Stress scanned over it all as she waited for Impulse. It was… More than a little outdated. With how hectic the day before had been, nothing they had figured out or learned had actually been put on there, and she made a mental note to update it. Just another drop in the bucket of work she had unknowingly signed up for.
Honestly, after all this is over… I should make sure X has some help and takes some more breaks. I never knew leading a bunch of Hermits could be so much work, and this is even without the real admin side of things…
Stress sighed as she idly moved a few strings on the wall around to be more accurate. With a little bit of luck, she would be able to break through to Iskall some more, and she’d be able to add more information to the board after it. Still, it was probably best to not look forward too much, as it sadly wasn’t sure at all when she would finally be able to get her friend back.
“Hiya, Stress. Shall we?” Impulse’s voice startled her more than a little, as she hadn’t heard him coming in at all. The ice queen turned around with a hand clutching her chest.
“Geez, Impulse, you scared me half to death! Me poor heart, it almost jumped right outta me chest!” She already smiling again, though, and that smile only widened when Impulse sheepishly scratched the back of his head and laughed.
“Whoopsie, I thought I made enough noise there, but apparently not. Oh well.”
“Let’s just go. I’m pretty sure Doc’s already waitin’ for lil’ ol’ me.”
Then she just started walking, assuming Impulse would follow. And follow he did, explaining in some more detail how they had managed to find Evil X, how Zedaph and him had picked the admin’s brother up, and the things they had already told him. Stress nodded along, but mostly kept quiet until Impulse was done.
“So, where is ‘e now?” She turned to look at the trader, who simply shrugged.
“Dunno. Zed’s with him, though, giving him a tour of the place. Would be a shame if Ex got lost in the branch mines or anything like that, so we thought it would be best to just show him where things roughly are.”
“I see. While I trust you and Zedaph, I still wanna have a lil’ chat with Evil X before trustin’ ‘im completely, right? So until then, can I ask you guys to keep an eye on ‘im? Of course, you don’t need to put ‘im in a cell or anyfing, just… Let me know if ‘e gets up to no good, okay?”
Impulse seemed to think for a moment, rubbing a hand over his chin.
“Yeah, I think we should be able to do so. He seems to trust Zed, so I don’t think he’d mind him being around. That being said, though, I’m not sure what shenanigans Zed would get up to, and whether those would be worse than what Ex might do… Ah well. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Still, I’ll make sure either me or Tango checks in with those two every now and then. Is that alright?” he spoke a few seconds later. Stress nodded.
“That should do, yeah!” She smiled widely as she spoke. “Well, I don’t fink I got much more to say, really. Oh, actually! Go eat lunch, luv, before you get back to what you were doing. Or at least go eat an apple or somefing, right? Self-care is important.” The ice queen patted the trader on his shoulder a few times.
“Ugh… Alright, mo- Stress! I meant Stress!” Impulse turned about as red as a beetroot, before facepalming and shaking his head. A sigh rolled over his lips. “I’m never gonna live that one down, am I?”
Stress, in turn, just chuckled heartily.
“Nope! Though it might be a sign you need to sleep some more, luv.” She grinned at him as his eyes found the ground, undoubtedly to figure out a way to just sink through it in shame.
“Yeah, maybe…” Impulse muttered, scratching his forehead. “Yeah. Okay, yeah. Maybe. Yeah, okay, I’ll go grab lunch and then take a nap. Thanks, Stress.” He nodded, lifting his lips in a grimace.
“Anytime, luv. Now shoo, go get that lunch!” She smiled widely as she made a ‘shoo’ motion with her hands. The trader chuckled, before half-heartedly waving and walking away. Stress found herself shaking her head as she watched him go, making a mental note to put out a reminder to everyone to actually eat and sleep every now and then. Hermits already tended to forget that when there was no life-threatening situation at hand, let alone now that everyone was distracted by that.
For a short moment longer she stood there, and then she just sighed and moved on to Iskall’s cell. A soft humming could be heard in the hallway, and Stress recognised Joe’s voice. It was pleasant to hear in the background, comforting even. Almost like a lullaby on a stormy night.
It certainly set a calming atmosphere, which would hopefully help them with Iskall. She was nodding to herself as she pushed open the door to his cell. Doc was already in the room, having pulled a chair to the table. A large amount of very specific tools were laid out in front of him, all smaller and finer than the regular tools she carried around. Screwdrivers, pliers, a pair of tongs, some absolutely tiny hammers, and a whole lot of other tools she didn’t even recognise. In the middle of it all laid Iskall’s diamond eye, wires poking out of it. It looked a whole lot better than it had when she had found it a day or so ago, stuck in a web, all thanks to Doc. He was currently polishing up the lens part of it with a piece of soft cloth, completely focussed.
Her gaze danced over to the other side of the room, where Iskall – or rather, Not Iskall – was still tied to a chair. His eye was focussed on Doc, a distrusting frown twisting his face. He barely even broke his focus to glance at Stress, and she gently smiled when he did so.
“Hiya Iskall! Hiya Doc!” she said, before starting to take some things out of her inventory. She had bandages, a bit of ice, some cloth, as well as all the plasters and scissors and safety pins one might need to take care of wounds, as well as a potion of healing. She would have brought a potion of regen or a golden apple as well, were it not for the fact that the effects of those items would not be able to do more than the beacon already was doing. Last of all, she pulled out a few simple sandwiches with salmon on them, as well as some golden apples.
“Hello, fl- Stress.” Not Iskall was the first to break the silence, and even though his voice was filled with spite, the ice queen was still happy that he at the very least had had the courtesy to use her name instead of a derogatory nickname. She stepped closer, observing the way the swede reacted.
His focus shifted over to where she was, although he still occasionally glanced over at Doc as though to make sure he wasn’t doing anything weird. Besides that, his face was an almost emotionless mask. It felt wrong to see him like this, without a grin on his lips or a twinkle in his eyes.
“How are you doin’, luv? Is your head a bit better now? And how about your shoulder?” Stress stopped walking about a metre away from him, to give him some personal space. There was nothing he would have been able to do to stop her if she were to come closer, but she’d rather not antagonise him. “Sorry for not coming back sooner, we had… Let’s just call it a bit of a situation.”
Not Iskall just stared at her, not a trace of the real Iskall hidden in his eyes. A shiver rolled over her spine. Had something changed, in the time she had been gone?
I don’t like this. I don’t like this one bit.
“Why would you care…” the swede spoke, making sure to lace some extra hatred through his words. Stress swallowed heavily, briefly glancing over her shoulder to look at Doc for some help. The cyborg, however, was still caught up in the finer mechanics of the diamond eye.
“Because you’re my friend, dummy! And friends- Friends care for each other!” Her voice wasn’t wavering, no sir. Not in the slightest. Absolutely not at all. She didn’t want Not Iskall to know how much he unnerved her, but any objective spectator would be able to tell her how much she was failing at that.
“Friends are just enemies who haven’t betrayed you yet.”
The words pierced her heart like an ice-cold dagger.
How can someone be so devoid of love, of compassion?
At the same time, she knew it was wrong. He was wrong, and she needed to show him.
“Oh, listen ‘ere, mistah. That’s not what friends are. Friends are- Friends are so much more than that, right? They care for each other, they help each other, they trust each other! None of that betraying business. Friends have fun together, friends have talks late at night that are both incredibly deep and incredibly meaningless, friends let each other crash at their place when it’s needed, yeah. And if you fink differently, then… Then I’m incredibly sorry for you, alright? Cause you shouldn’t have to fink that way.”
A sigh rolled over her lips as she hugged herself, because she knew that if she didn’t, she would be hugging Iskall, jagged armour or not.
“Having fun, huh? I know a fun activity. It’s called ‘sending you and all your so-called friends to my lord’.” His eyes never left hers as he spoke, but this time, Stress didn’t flinch. Her self-hug turned into folded arms, and her face hardened.
“Friends don’t hurt each other, Iskall. You should know better than that,” she said sternly, like an unamused teacher.
Void, what I would give for a spray-bottle of water right now…
“Tsk… Pathetic.” Not Iskall sat back in his bonds, and Stress sighed. This wasn’t working. This just wasn’t working.
“Well, pathetic or not, I’m gonna look at your wounds, luv.” She stepped a little closer before turning around to the cyborg. “Doc? Could you give me a hand please?”
There was no response, though. Doc just continued cleaning the eye and straightening out the various wires.
“Hello? Overworld to Doc?” Stress waved, then annoyedly exhaled.
“Heh. Not even your ‘friend’ wants to listen to you,” Not Iskall remarked dryly, and the ice queen was relatively certain there would be a smug smirk on his face if she were to turn around.
“I didn’t ask you, Iskall.”
Instead of giving him the satisfaction of getting angry, she moved over to where Doc was, waving her hand between him and the eye.
“Doc? Heeeello?”
This time, he did look up, kind of startled. He held up a single finger.
“One moment.” Then Doc reached for his ears, taking out a pair of button-sized buds. Stress could hear some faint angry-sounding music coming from them before he slid them into some slots in his arm and they quieted. “Sorry, you were saying?”
Stress felt her eyelid twitch.
“Why were you- Oh, forget it. I was sayin’ I needed a hand with Iskall over there. I can’t get his armour off.” She did her best not to let her frustration seep through, because Void below both of the men in the room were annoying her in their own ways.
“Right, right. I’ll see what I can do.” The cyborg gently put the eye down before walking over to Not Iskall. Stress followed, then went and stood at the other side of the chair.
“I’m gonna take this off now, alright?” she asked, gesturing towards the helmet. Then, before really waiting for an answer, she started trying again. The result, however, was much the same as the time before. It simply wouldn’t budge, though, instead pulling up Not Iskall’s flesh as though it was merged with it.
“Ah.” Doc remarked. “Yeah, that’s not going to work. There’s a curse on there, Binding it seems. See these markings?” He pointed out some runes that were inlaid in the material.
“Huh… I thought they were claw marks at first… This explains a lot.” She rubbed her chin, staring at the piece of armour. Now that she looked better, she could see the same kind of markings on all other pieces of armour too. “Sooo… Now what?”
Not Iskall laughed with some kind of evil joy.
“Now nothing. You will fail, no matter what you try.”
“Shut the hell up, Iskall. You know that ain’t true, man.” Doc had a glint of something in his eyes. “There’s three ways we could try to solve this. One of which is just flat-out killing him and hoping he respawns here instead of at that asshole spider’s place. That’s out for obvious reasons. We could try to simply break the armour as a second option, which could take a long while and might cause Iskall here some damage. The last option is… Well, it works in theory, but I’ve never tried it. Some of my off-world friends came up with it a while ago.” His smirk promised something unhinged, and Stress almost didn’t want to ask.
“Ugh… Just kill me. Just send me back to my lord,” Not Iskall interjected, his voice terribly bored.
“No.” Both Doc and Stress spoke at the same time, before looking at each other.
“Well? What’s that third way, Doc?” the ice queen then asked.
“Overload him with regen and healing, then cut off the armour along with the skin it’s stuck to.” He grinned as though he didn’t just suggest mutilating someone. “It’s quicker than trying to break the armour.”
Stress opened her mouth, then closed it again.
“Please tell me you’re pulling me leg here. That’s it? That’s your brilliant plan? Doc, you can’t just do that to someone. Besides, you damn well know that regeneration effects don’t stack.”
“Do I get a say in this? I thought you said friends don’t hurt each other.” Not Iskall mockingly imitated her voice, which earnt him an icy glare but not much more.
“That’s where you’re wrong, actually. It’s very much possible, and all you have to do is break the rules of reality a tiny little bit. Or, well, I wouldn’t call it breaking per se, it’s more like… Exploiting a loophole.” The cyborg grinned widely. “Turns out the world doesn’t like it when you overload certain parts of it. You can do that with very complicated redstone, or… With a few very specific books, a flower, a dropper, an observer, and a chest.” He then leaned his arms on Not Iskall’s wounded shoulder, making him hiss in pain. “Luckily for you, I carry all that in a shulker in my enderchest. I could set it up in a few minutes, even, and then we’ll help you get rid of that curse problem of yours within no time at all,” he hoarsely whispered in his ear.
“Doc! You can’t just- No! Have you gone completely mad?!”
“Perhaps.” The cyborg shrugged and straightened his back. “Well, if you don’t want to try it my way, have fun chipping away at that armour for the next few hours, without ever knowing for certain how close to breaking it you are. Let me know when you change your mind.”
Then he turned around and started walking back to where he had been sitting before. Stress’ eyes danced between him and Not Iskall. She didn’t want to hurt him, she really didn’t, but at the same time… Void knew they didn’t have those hours. She swallowed away the lump that was forming in her throat, and gently took Not Iskall’s hand in hers.
“Iskall I- I know you’re still in there, somewhere, so… Please don’t get mad at me for this, I’m- I’m doing this for you. I have to, for the good of all of us. I’m so, so sorry.”
Her eyes met Not Iskall’s, and for the briefest of seconds, she thought she saw the green shine in it lessen.
“Doc, I- Just do it. Just don’t… Just don’t hurt ‘im more than necessary, okay?” She didn’t look at the cyborg as she spoke, instead opting to be there for Not Iskall, gently rubbing her thumb over his hand.
“I’ll make sure to knock him out before I really start.” His voice sounded a lot closer than he thought it would be, and only now did Not Iskall start struggling again. It seemed like the prospect of losing his armour was the worst thing that could possibly happen to him. “Now, we’d need about… I’d say four extended regen potions, as well as four extra strong health potions. Golden apples would be good to have, too, although I’m not sure how we can make him eat those.”
“Gosh, that’s… That’s quite some. I’ll see what I can do. Hmm… I wonder if I could juice a golden apple for the same effects…”
Using the potions would put a bit of a dent into their supplies, but it would be worth it. Besides, she could send out a few people to various farms to gather up the materials to brew more. That, or, in the case of the witch farms, to just get more healing potions.
Stress let go of Not Iskall’s hand, smiling apologetically at him.
“I swear I will kill both of you, and I’m going to enjoy every moment of it. My lord will make you into that which you so obviously hate, and you’ll love it, whether you want to or not.” Not Iskall seemed less than amused by the state of things, still trying to get out of the chains.
“Of course you will, luv. Now, please… Be a dear and work with us here. In time, it’ll heal.”
---
“I swear I will kill you all if you lay a finger on me.” He meant every single word, and he most definitely meant to follow through with them, the moment they let him go. But no, there were five people holding him down, while a sixth approached with a scalpel and gauze.
“Of course you will, luv. Now, please… Be a dear and work with us here. In time, it’ll heal.” Her voice was soft, caring, but at the same time, it sounded like she didn’t want him to talk back.
“And what if I don’t?” He spat out the words along with a sliver of blood, while more of the stuff dripped down from where his eye once was. They simply didn’t understand what was at stake here, didn’t understand he couldn’t permit himself a moment of weakness.
“We’ll just ‘ave to make you. Iskall, dear, one of these days you’ll ‘ave to start trustin’ us, right?”
“Never.”
---
He pushed himself to the front of his mind, the force of the memory behind him. That other him struggled, he knew it did, but ultimately it didn’t matter. His friends were out there, trying to help. They would save him.
See? I’ll get back to Stress, and there’s nothing you can do about it!
Still, getting control and keeping it were two separate things. That part was all about who could hold out the longest before giving up the fight, and Iskall didn’t plan on giving up. Not with what was at stake. Not now he was so close to getting back to his friends.
He was shaking with exertion, his breathing changing from a deep and slow pace to panting. Stress raised an eyebrow, worry in her eyes as she turned.
“Doc? He’s… He’s doing something! What do we-“ Her hands fluttered around herself as she took a few steps back, and he heard the tell-tale hiss of a sword being unsheathed.
“Sss… Ssstrrr… Stress- H-hu-hurry I… I c-can’t h-hold hi-him f-for l-long…” he managed to bring out, every syllable a battle in a war against his own body. “I n-need…”
Diamond clattered to the ground, and there she was again, grabbing his hand and touching and cooling and worrying.
“What do you need, luv? Just tell me, just tell me and I’ll get it for you. Anything.”
“I… need… m-m-mem…”
“Memories?”
He nodded fervently instead of trying to push more words out of his rebelling mouth, and he saw her shift. Stress only seemed to doubt for a moment before sitting on his lap and embracing him in a hug. The armour denied him the feeling of it, but that was alright. His brain could fill in the gap, the gesture familiar enough. He shakily exhaled as he felt her emitting a grounding cold, a chill that brought his mind back to the place where the two of them had started out in this new world, in the ice fields they had made into their homes.
She spoke, too, she spoke of that very beginning, of the underwater mines he had built, of the Bumbo’s he had managed to sneak in every time he had had the opportunity, of his guardian farm. She reminded him of the pranks he had done, and the retribution he had gotten in return. Stress told him of his Nether base, of his normal base, now surrounded by crystals of ice, of their shared laboratory, of their intention to actually fill it. With every bit of information she gave, every memory she triggered, he felt himself strengthen more, reinforcing his position in control of his own mind.
Stress didn’t stop there, though. She told him of the worlds that had come before, of his plastic island, of his Iskallium canyon, of the events surrounding the Logfellas and how he had saved the day there, and even of worlds before that, before he had met the Hermits. Of the kingdoms he had been part of, of the speculations of where he had come from before that. And when she had run out of things to say, she simply started singing, softly voicing songs she had sung so often when they were working around their bases.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Iskall remembered.
He remembered who he was, where he came from, and above all, what he was not. He was not a fan of diorite. He was not a coward. He was not one to sacrifice friends for his own betterment, and above all, he was not a servant to Arachne.
That other voice inside of him protested, of course. It protested as loudly as it could, but he saw straight through it as he pushed it aside and down, as far away as he could. The voice clung to his mind, though, searching for purchase with everything it had as it hung on, refusing to leave. Iskall grunted and pushed, willing it out of his head, wanting it gone just as much as if not more than the voice had wanted him gone.
Much like weeds, though, the voice was hard to root out completely. A sliver of it remained despite his best efforts, buried as deep as he could manage. As long as it wouldn’t grow, it would be fine. It would all be fine.
He slowly felt himself relax, and Iskall opened his eye. He hadn’t even noticed he had closed it to begin with, and for the first time in a bit, it seemed like all colours were right again. No longer was everything twisted by a filter of green.
Iskall didn’t even bother trying to quell the tears that were welling up, not caring that they fell down upon Stress like summer rain. He was free, he was himself again, and that was all that mattered.
“Stress, I-“ the swede started, but he didn’t know where he even wanted to go with it, a sudden lump in his throat choking out his ability to speak. He swallowed heavily as her song stopped, and she made eye contact, her eyes as filled with tears as his own.
“I’m home.”
Notes:
Hoo boy, this is a long one that has eluded me for quite some time. But hey, it's here now!
No, I will not be apologising for Doc's ideas. Yes, his off-world friends are in fact the SciCrafters.
Chapter 105: Arc 3 - 29
Summary:
The prisoner's dilemma.
Notes:
TW for graphic descriptions of torture and blood starting from "I'll count that as a no [...]" and lasting the rest of the chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Thinking was a skill he had cultivated over the years, working on redstone projects on larger and larger scales. He had no issues analysing a situation, although finding the best course of action wasn’t always easy, and being able to think well didn’t mean he never had dumb ideas. On the contrary even. Thinking more simply meant there were also more ideas that potentially could be bad.
Ideas such as reading a book on a spooky, evil-looking lectern.
Ideas such as trusting every word in said book, going along with them without a second doubt.
Ideas such as setting highly flammable cobwebs on fire.
Ideas such as not notifying people when he had left the bunker.
Right there and then, Mumbo wanted to hit himself in the head for each of his stupid mistakes that had lead him to where he was right there and then. Not that it could get a whole lot further than ‘wanting’, though. His wrists had been tied together high above his head, pulling him up far enough that only his bare toes were able to touch the ground. The rocky floor was rough and hot on his skin, while volcanic gasses made the air an incredible bother to breathe, much like the air in the Nether was. There was no light anywhere, not even the faintest glow, and despite in theory knowing where the door was, it could just as well not have been there.
Perhaps, just perhaps, he could have been able to free himself, were it not for the poison still coursing through his body. It made it hard to focus as wave after wave of pain set his nerves on fire and made his body tremble. There was no way he was able to remove the layers of spider silk around his wrists.
As such, he just kind of hung there, trying to remember the good times, trying to keep up his hope.
It was a hope that diminished with every muffled scream coming from one of the other cells. It wasn’t a continuous thing, but there was a certain periodicity to it, too regular to be inflicted by a person. Or by a spider-centaur-hybrid-thing, he’d reckon.
Still, Mumbo recognised the voice, muffled as it was. Xisuma. He didn’t know what their admin was going through, but he was rooting for him, rooting for him with all his heart. After all, should the man give in… That would be it, wouldn’t it?
Would it be weird to cheer for him? Just to… Just to let him know he’s not alone. Just to let him know I believe in him. But… Would he want to hear that, coming from me? After everything I’ve done? Then again, he didn’t sound all too mad when I fessed up to him, more… supportive even. It would definitely make ME feel better to just- to just start righting some wrongs. Right.
Mumbo nodded to himself before breathing in deeply and immediately coughing half of the air out again. His lungs didn’t particularly like the sulphur in the air, but if you asked the redstoner, his lungs just needed to listen to his brain, and his brain wanted his lungs to get as much air as possible so he could cheer as loud as he could.
Sadly, he hadn’t yet managed to turn his lungs into redstone contraptions, and he wasn’t really planning on doing so either, so he couldn’t just command them to do something and actually have that something happen a hundred percent of the time. A shame, really, but not something he could fix right there and then.
Instead, Mumbo breathed in a few more times, a little deeper each time, until his lungs were slightly more used to the sulphury air. Another muffled scream sounded, making him flinch, and the redstoner decided that that had to be the moment to start encouraging and reassuring Xisuma to keep going, to keep his hopes up.
“YOU GOT THIS X! I BELIEVE IN YOU! DON’T GIVE UP, WE’LL BOTH BE OUT OF HERE SOON!”
Turns out, it was rather difficult to come up with cheers for someone that he knew was being tortured, but Mumbo still did the best he could. After all, what else could he do? This way, at the very least he could try to convince himself a little that everything would be alright in the end. It sure beat overthinking everything while hanging from a ceiling, waiting for fate to catch up with him.
Then he heard more noises. More sounds of pain, but no screams, almost as though someone was doing his very best to evade those. It wasn’t Xisuma this time, though. It came from what felt like a different direction, and the voice sounded different too. Just who it was, though… That he didn’t know.
It gave his brain something new to overanalyse. Who would it be? Wels, Python or Iskall would be the most logical, given that he had seen Scar, Grian and Ren walking around already, but… For all he knew it could be a new person, another of his friends, and he had no way of knowing who.
Mumbo gritted his teeth together as he attempted to focus on the sounds instead of the screaming of his own nerves. Whoever it was, he guessed they could use just about the same amount of cheering on as he had given X.
“DON’T GIVE UP, YOU! DON’T LET THEM GET TO YOU, YOU’RE STRONGER THAN THAT, WE’RE STRONGER THAN THAT!”
Mumbo had to pause his cheering because he managed to choke on the air, and he spent a good minute coughing and regaining his breath. The sounds were still there, still never raising to a scream. He was certain he heard another voice as well, speaking some words or another, but the stone walls muffled and warped them too much to understand exactly what they were saying.
The response, though… That he could understand, it was loud enough for that. A singular word, filled with shaky conviction.
“Never!”
Wels! That’s Wels! Then… The raid failed, didn’t it? Did they not get him out in time?
A door slammed shut, and a moment later, the door of his own cell opened, the light creeping in and blinding him for a moment. There, in the doorway, stood Arachne, eyes glowing red. More red was dripping from their fingers, and Mumbo swallowed. He could take a guess as to what it was, where it had come from.
“Hello, little fly. You seemed very… invested in those pathetic beings you call your friends. Have you changed your mind, yet?” They chuckled, sending shivers down his spine despite how hot his cell was.
“Let… Let me go, you… You monster!” he spat back, pulling all courage in his system together to do so.
“I’ll count that as a no. Such a shame that the little fly keeps making bad decisions…” They didn’t sound like they found it a shame in the slightest, instead coming closer and grabbing his face between two of their hands, smearing blood all over it. “It seems like I will have to teach you to make the right decisions.”
Arachne grinned, their mandibles widening threateningly close to his face. Then he felt two more hands on his body, sharp claws tracing over and through the places where he had been cut with a sword earlier. They ripped his already tattered suit further apart with the same ease as they were ripping through his skin, and unlike Wels, Mumbo wasn’t able to keep in a scream.
The redstoner tried to move away from them, to escape those claws, but he had no way to do so. Moving too much to the side or to the back would make him loose his footing, and even if it wouldn’t, they were still holding his face tight enough that he could feel blood welling up on his cheeks. Either that, or it was simply Wels’ blood, which wasn’t a whole lot better.
“There is a way to stop this, you know. Just accept my mark, and it’ll be over, I will not lay any further hands on you or that blond friend of yours.” Their speech was monotone, methodical as they continued opening up his wounds further, allowing blood to seep into his white dress shirt. Mumbo closed his eyes, his heartbeat racing. He could stop the pain, and all it took was accepting the mark. All it took was sacrificing himself completely. Was it worth it?
“And- and Xisuma?” he asked, his voice laboured. In response, Arachne simply tightened their grip on his face, the tips of their claws entering his skin.
“The little fly think’s I’m stupid. Worldshaper is mine. Your life is worth nothing compared to his.”
Definitely not worth it, then.
He stubbornly kept his mouth shut, trying to focus on something, anything else than the feeling of his skin being slowly ripped to shreds.
And there was something.
A song, echoing against stone walls. A song of resistance, a song of rebellion.
The words weren’t understandable right there and then, but he knew the lyrics. After all, hadn’t Wels sung it before? Hadn’t he heard it so many times back in their previous world, when the war between the OHO, the nHo and La Resistance was waging? Certainly, Mumbo had kept out of that for the most part, but even then, that song had been everywhere.
The redstoner swallowed heavily. Much as he had told Xisuma and Wels to stay strong, Wels was now telling him to be strong, in his own way.
“Perhaps, though… If both of you little flies accept my mark, then maybe I won’t lay a hand on that precious, precious Worldshaper of yours. That other fly has been offered the same deal, so decide. What will it be?”
Again, Mumbo swallowed, before making up his mind. He already knew what Wels had chosen, and it would be madness to throw away that sacrifice now. He took a deep breath, then opened his eyes. Mumbo stared straight into their face and started singing along with the knight, with as much conviction as he could muster.
“Do you hear the people sing? Singing the songs of angry men? It is the music of-“
Claws dug deeper, and the redstoner couldn’t help but scream as he felt them scratch over the bone of his ribs. All desire to sing a song to spite Arachne was gone, instead replaced with a desire for it to stop. He knew how to stop it, but he refused. He simply refused. And if Wels could hold on, if Xisuma could hold on… Mumbo would do just the same.
“That was a mistake, little fly. But I understand. It seems like I’ll need to give you some more… incentive.” They grinned maliciously as they let go of his face, now using all four hands to tear at his skin.
And Mumbo screamed, even though he didn’t want to. He screamed and screamed and screamed as he felt blood seeping down, as he felt his shirt being torn away, as he felt bits of skin falling away.
And through it all, Wels kept singing that same song over and over, giving him something to focus on, something that wasn’t the pain or the blood or their face or their claws. And Mumbo didn’t give up. He knew he was the weakest link, between the three prisoners he was aware of, and he refused to let that link break, to let everything start unravelling.
He just continued screaming until his throat no longer allowed him to.
Notes:
this chapter was brought to you by watching too many ted-ed logic puzzle videos as well as aggressive battle music playlists.
Chapter 106: Arc 3 - 30
Summary:
A rummage through memory lane.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Zedaph rummaged through his pockets before pulling out two domino masks of bright pink leather. He offered one of the two to Evil X, who accepted it with a questioning look. Then he tied his own mask before his face in a practiced manner, because although he hadn’t donned his Wormman costume in quite some time, the muscle memory still remained.
“What are these for?” Ex then asked, holding up his own mask and just kind of staring at it.
“They’re to hide our identities, of course! We can’t be having a rummage around while anyone could just walk in and recognise us, that simply won’t do!” He smiled widely, and even more so when the other man frowned.
“But… Our clothes. Won’t people recognise those?”
“Nope! It’s scientifically proven that masks are the most effective disguise, with a whopping seventy-three percent efficiency! Besides, people would be too busy wondering why the masks are pink to notice our clothes, trust me.”
“If you say so…?” Then Ex tied the mask over his visor, moving it around a little to improve his vision. It took a bit of time, mostly because domino masks were meant to go directly onto the skin, and not overtop something else, but it kind of worked. When he was happy with how the mask was placed, Evil X looked at him for the first time since Zed had donned his mask, and suddenly a hint of recognition shot over his face.
Zedaph felt his heartbeat raise as he realised what dots Ex was about to connect.
No, I can’t, I- I have to protect my secret identity!
“Wait a second… Are you Wo-“ the admin’s brother started asking, but Zedaph cut him off almost immediately.
“NO TIME TO DALLY! Let’s go!”
Zedaph took Evil X’s hand and pulled him along after him, trying to distract him away from realising that Zedaph and Wormman were one and the same person. It was one of his best kept secrets, not even Impulse and Tango had figured it out yet, and that he was proud of.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming!” Evil X walked after him as he tried to get his hand back, not to a whole lot of success. “You can let go of me now.”
For good measure, Zedaph lead him a little bit further away from where they had started, before hiding around a corner and stealthily checking their surroundings. He knew there were cameras that they wouldn’t be able to evade, but that wasn’t the main problem. The tech team was most likely looking at footage from outside of the bunker, where it was more likely that enemies were. No, the main obstacle the rummaging duo would come across were other Hermits, but with a bit of luck, they would all be too busy to pay attention.
“Ssshh… We shouldn’t be spotted while we make our way over to Xisuma’s office. Follow me closely,” Zed whispered, and Evil X squinted.
“I don’t see why we don’t just walk there. You were supposed to be giving me a tour, weren’t you?”
Zedaph felt as though his brain was short-circuiting with the simple brilliance of the statement.
“Ex, you legend! That works so much better! Yes!” He smiled widely as he tossed his previous plan all the way out of the window. Nobody needed that anymore, so it could get out for all he cared. Zed straightened his back and took on a more relaxed posture. “I’ll go and give you the tour right up until the office, then we rummage, and we’ll tour to the kitchen to eat something. That alright with you?”
Evil X just stared at him.
“Yes? I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise? Let’s just go.” He started walking down the hallway a few paces before stopping and turning around. “Wait, what direction are we going again?”
“That way! Not to worry, Evil X, you’ve got one of the best tourguides to guide you here,” he responded with a bright grin as he pointed out the route and started walking down the hallway. “Actually, what do I call you? I can’t imagine your actual name being Evil Xisuma, because like, what kind of mother calls her child that? I’m sure your mother was a lovely person, though! Unless she wasn’t! But yeah. Names are weird, man. I mean, plenty of Hermits have weird names, so no judgement here, but… Oh, you get what I mean! Bathrooms are here to the left, by the way. In any case, if you’re okay with us all calling you Evil X or just Ex then that’s also fine, I was just curious.” He rambled on and on, looking over his shoulder every few seconds to double-check Ex’ reaction and to make sure he was still there. The admin’s brother seemed lost deep in thought, though, but Zed had no idea where those thoughts had lead him. Not the best of places, judging by his expression.
“Sorry, I- That was… I shouldn’t have brought that up, should I? Sorry for that. I-“
“Xanota. It used to be Xanota. And Mom was a good person, just with an… interesting sense of what names should be like.” A sigh sounded behind him, and Zedaph stopped in his tracks, turning around. “It changed, though, when people- when my brother decided I was nothing but an evil version of him. These days, everyone just knows me as that. Evil, nothing more. The atonality to Xisuma’s music, despite being named after being tonal.” The man gritted his teeth, his brows furrowing. “I will take him down for that. I will put him through the same misery he put me through.”
Every word was like another dagger to Zedaph’s heart. He had known there was some… let’s call it ‘history’ between the two brothers, but it was still painful to see the results of that. Zed reached out, and Ex – no, Xanota – visibly shrunk together, something akin to fear on his face, as though he had just realised what he had been saying.
“No, don’t- I… I didn’t mean it that way. Don’t… Don’t send me back, please, I- I don’t wanna go back to That Place, I don’t wanna be alone again, I’m not evil, not towards any of you.”
What happened to him? I thought… I thought X had soft-banned him, what world did he go to? Unless… No. No, he can’t have. X would never- but what if he did? No matter what, though, I’ll talk to him about it at another time.
“Hey, hey, I’m not gonna hurt you, I would never hurt a friend of Wormman. Don’t worry. Please, don’t worry. It’s all fine. I’m not- I’m not gonna ban you, and you can be sure I’ll introduce anyone that so much as suggests it to my fist.” Zedaph tentatively took a step closer, showing his hands were empty, which seemed to calm down Ex at least a little. “Do you want a hug? It’s okay if you don’t.” He spread his arms wide, but not doing a whole lot more. The other man only seemed to think for a fraction of a second before accepting the offer, wrapping shaking arms around him.
And Zedaph did much the same, gently stroking his back despite the diamond armour covering it.
“Hey, it’s alright. You’re safe with me. You’re no longer alone.”
Evil X was shaking in his embrace despite Zed’s gentleness, or maybe because of it.
Goodness, he’s… He’s like I remember from my time as Wormman. Not evil. Just… Misunderstood. Traumatised. Taken advantage of. Sure, he pretends like he’s all dangerous, but that’s logical. The poor guy just wants to protect himself. He’s like a hedgehog, but his spikes are anger and lightning. So how do I get him to unroll?
Zedaph kept making soft noises until it seemed like Ex at the very least calmed down a little.
“Okay, so, Xanota. Do you still want to go steal things from Xisuma’s office? We got our disguises on anyway, and I know rummaging through other people’s things helps me cheer up. Ask Tango! Oh, the amount of times he caught me nabbing things from his chests… Too many to count!” He grinned widely as he spoke, and he felt how Evil X’s grip loosened.
“Mmhmm… Yes, that sounds… Yeah.” His voice sounded weak, and Zedaph was almost certain he could see some droplets clinging to his cheeks and eyelashes.
Wait, was he- Was he crying? How did I… How could I have missed that? It’s almost like he learnt how to cry without making a sound, but- Did he? That’s messed up. That’s just messed up. That’s it. I’m gonna save Xisuma and tell him how I feel about this. Oooh, he’s gonna hear some facts. And opinions. Mostly opinions, actually.
“Let’s go, then. It’s actually not too far anymore.”
They finally broke their hug, then walked on in relative silence. Zedaph tried cracking some jokes in order to ease the mood a little, but found his words falling flat with what sounded like forced laughter from Ex’s side. And so, after a little bit he just stopped with the jokes, instead rambling on about this thing or that, or some design detail of the bunker. It was more about filling the silence than being factually correct, and that he could do.
“We’re here,” he then got to say at long last, his hand on the door to the office. “As you can see, there’s no nameplates or signs to show what room it is. Contrary to popular belief, it’s not actually a strategy to make navigating more difficult for enemies. No, it’s actually because we’ve been too lazy- I mean busy! Definitely meant busy. In any case, we were too busy to go around and hang up those nameplates. Nobody had time for any of that.” Zedaph grinned again before swinging open the door. “Come on in!”
Evil X nodded, then actually managed to smile.
“Let’s rummage, then.”
Both of them went in, closing the door behind them. Evil X seemed a little out of his depths still, but when Zedaph just walked towards the desk and pulled open the first drawer he could get his hands on, he too decided to just go for it. In his head, he had a small list of things he wanted to find. First of all, he wanted to find a solution for the eating problem. That was the most pressing right there and then, as he would like to not die of starvation, thank you very much. Besides that, he wanted his communicator back. Xisuma had taken it from him, just Before, and while Evil X didn’t really have anyone to message with it, it was one of the few things that were really his. It wasn’t something he had borrowed or stolen, not something he was keeping for someone. His. To have that taken… It still stung. As such, the third item on his list was quite simply something Xisuma would miss. Call it the first step of some kind of petty revenge. The last thing on his list was actually ‘whatever he found that struck his fancy’. Ex basically had nothing aside from the tools and armour he had borrowed, and he could quite simply do with some stuff. What stuff, he didn’t know yet, but he’d figure it out when he found it.
And so he found himself going through some chests until he stumbled upon a few books, and old ones at that. They piqued his interest, and he pulled them out, gently brushing over the covers. There was no text there to signify what they were, and so he opened the first of them, careful to not damage it.
Only to be greeted by his own face. It was younger, still, less bitter, a smile frozen for eternity. Next to his face was that of his brother, looking happy and innocent. Neither of them was wearing armour, neither of them had a visor in front of their faces, and the yellowish stone and purple buildings behind them betrayed where the picture was taken. Evil X frowned, turning another page.
There were yet more pictures of both him and Xisuma, and sometimes there were other people as well. Faces he had almost forgotten, names he could barely remember. People that had left, people that were left behind. At first it was mostly family, but as the boys in the pictures grew older and older, the family disappeared, their place instead taken by other people. The landscape changed too, now showing Overworld instead of End, and the brothers… They wore armour now. Slowly but surely, he could see more and more distance appearing between where him and Xisuma were standing in the pictures, until he just wasn’t in them anymore.
Ex swallowed heavily, then nodded to himself. This book… He would take it. Those were his memories just as much as they were Xisuma’s, it was his right to have this. He spent a short moment paging through the other books, which turned out to also be absolutely loaded with pictures, before just putting them all in his inventory. After all, Evil X was quite certain they were on his list in one way or another.
His eyes then continued on to the rest of the things in the chest. Nothing really stood out, not like the books had, so it probably wasn’t worth his time. He closed the chest with a thud, then moved on to another one to rummage through. It didn’t seem like his brother had been storing many things in his office, though, and the second chest merely had multiple stacks of paper in it, all with the same kind of formatting. Almost like automatically generated reports of sorts. Ex paged through a few of them to make sure that that was indeed all they were, and came to the mildly unsatisfying conclusion that the pages were the daily logs of the server. Just pages upon pages of them, and old ones at that. For a few of them he was relatively certain the dates were still in the formats of the past worlds the Hermits had been in, but the others he came across were from Before. He wasn’t quite certain if that day would also be in the logs, but… For some reason he didn’t feel like seeing his own name pop up in the logs.
“Hey! I think I found something!” Zedaph whisper-yelled from across the room. In one of his hands was a set of clear tubes, while the other held a cannister of sorts, and Evil X squinted at it. It looked familiar, somehow, but he couldn’t quite recall where he had seen it before. “I think it’s X’s nasal cannula! You’ll need to do a little bit of construction to get all the pieces in the right place, but that should not be a problem, right? This should work.”
“It… might? I don’t know… maybe?” Ex closed the chest he had been going through and walked over, all but grabbing the tubes from Zed’s hands. It certainly did look like something that was used to breathe through, given how there were a pair of tubes jutting out, almost perfectly situated to each fit in a nostril. Some of the markings on the cannister helped out as well, signifying there was Void air inside. “Hmm… Yes, this might work.”
Ex smiled at Zed and actually meaned it. Having those tubes would make things so much easier. That was, if he could get them to work. He hadn’t actually seen the cannula in use just yet, and so he wasn’t entirely sure how to connect them to the cannister of Void air, but it could never be too hard, now could it be?
“Give me a hand?” he asked as he draped the tubes around his wrist. He was going to need to get the cannula into place quite quickly so he could actually continue breathing, and he wasn’t planning on spending any of that precious time trying to set his helmet down somewhere. Before then, though, he’d have to make sure there was air flowing through the tubes.
“Of course! Whaddaya need me to do, Xanota?” Zedaph smiled as he kicked a drawer shut.
“Can you help me figure out how to connect this to that?” Ex waved the end of the tube towards the cannister as he spoke.
“Yep! Dunno how it works, but how hard can it be? Actually, don’t answer that. We’ll get it to work, somehow.”
The duo then proceeded to spend the next ten minutes on actually making air come out of the cannula, and then on getting Ex to breathe through it. That latter bit was actually the most difficult, given how little time they actually had between breaking the seals on Ex’ helmet and him starting to choke on the Overworld air. Somehow, though, they managed, with only minor bits of gasping for air on Ex’s side.
“There we go! That’s working beautifully, isn’t it?” Zed clapped his hands together after slightly adjusting the way the tubing sat on the face of the other man. “Maybe you’ll be able to get some sun now as well. No offense, but you’re very pale. The hair isn’t helping you on that front either. Not that I don’t like your hair! I think it’s quite good hair. Long enough to make some of the ladies here envious too, but yeah. And Ren. Ren would want to have hair like yours too.”
“It’s working, yes. As for sun… I’m not sure yet. Maybe. After all of this is over, I’d say. I don’t… I don’t think I’ve ever really felt the sun on my face. Through my visor, yes, but… Not really.” Evil X sighed as he let his fingers follow the shape of his jaw. It had been a long time since he had last felt that, too. Or the feeling of his hair on his hands. Or the feeling of muscles shifting beneath his fingers as he blinked or moved his face.
He was going to need to get used to all of that again.
“We’ll go sunbathing once we’ve taken down that spider, promised. For now, though… Food?”
“Food.”
Notes:
For people confused about the naming, I actually used the same naming scheme as Xisuma when figuring out Evil X's name (and Jag actually came up with the right word to base it on, thanks for that!)
So basically, you take a word, like "music". Then you turn in backwards, so it becomes cisum. Then you change the first letter to an X, and add an A at the and, and whabam! "Xisuma"! For Evil X I ended up with the word "tonal", which turns into "Xanota" :D
Chapter 107: Arc 3 - 31
Summary:
Come out of your shell, and see the damage it caused...
Notes:
TW for descriptions of surgery stuff as well as blood starting from "[...] Doc was ready to start the actual procedure." lasting to "Just cleaning wasn’t where she stopped [...]". Still present in minor form for the rest of the chapter.
TW for someone getting knocked out/minor head injury in the paragraph starting with "From there on, Doc took charge [...]" and the one after it
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It took a bit for both Stress and Iskall to stop crying, but Doc was not going to wait for that. There were still quite some things that needed doing before they could do the impromptu surgery that would hopefully rescue Iskall from his armour, after all. As such, Doc just put down his enderchest, and started pulling an assortment of items out of it. First some iron blocks, to make a rudimentary table out of. Iron could be wiped down a whole lot easier than wood, and that was going to be needed. More iron, for a cauldron this time. A shulker box labelled with various warning signs and the words ‘Property of Area 77’. The rolled-up sheet of leather he kept his various knives in. Then he started setting up the redstone needed to overload the area, checking some coordinates before putting the chest and the dropper down. Ever so carefully, Doc started moving a series of books from the shulker into the chest, making sure not to stack them and filling every space there was except for one. After that the cyborg put the observer and a bit of dirt down, before planting a red poppy into it. The dropper clicked twice as he did so, signifying it would have fired if there had been something in it, and Doc nodded to himself.
It was only then that he took out the last of the books from the shulker box, gently putting the thick tome into the dropper.
“It’s all primed and ready here, I can start the procedure whenever,” he said, leaning back against the metal table he had constructed. “I do want to remind you two that we are on a bit of a schedule, though…”
He didn’t even bother really hiding the hint. That was fine, though. It was all fine.
“Yeah, just- Yeah. Gimme a moment, luv. I’ll… I’ll untie him.” Stress’ voice sounded strained as she spoke, and Doc was relatively certain he could hear it waver as she stepped away from Iskall. The ice queen actually formed a stark contrast with the swede, that seemed to steel himself and nod, blinking away the last of his earlier tears.
“Better make it quick, then. Let’s get this over with.” He kept sitting still as Stress dawdled over the ropes and the knots, and it seemed like she was stalling for time a little bit. Not overtly so, but she was definitely taking a bit longer than she needed to. After all, there was no reason to actually undo all of the knots, she had a sword with her, and otherwise Doc had one. Or a knife, or a scalpel, or a dagger, or… There were a lot of options. Still, the cyborg didn’t do a whole lot more than just standing there and crossing his arms, letting his fingers drum on the metal of his prosthetic.
A few times, Stress opened her mouth as if to say something, but the words dried up on her tongue, and nothing came out. Iskall was silent too, having closed his eye and breathing in a calm, measured rhythm. Both of them were preparing for what was to come in their own way.
Still, the time of preparation had to come to an end at some point, and a few moments later, Iskall stood up, letting the last of the ropes glide to the ground as he stepped away from the chair. He stretched a little, as much as his armour would allow him too, and then nodded to Doc.
“Where do you want me?”
In response, the cyborg patted the iron table he had made.
“Right here, on your back, with your head towards the overloader. It shouldn’t make any difference, but if it does, that way we’ll have most benefit from it.”
“Gotcha.”
Then he simply hopped on, laying down as Doc had instructed. The cyborg laid out his knives in response, his movements clearly practiced.
“Stress, could you please set out the potions for me? Be ready to administer them when I tell you to.”
“Yep. Just…” she looked down to the ground, then to the overloader and then to Doc. Her voice was a lot quieter when she continued speaking. “You’re sure this is going to work, right?”
“Nope! The theoretical base is solid, though, and if I wouldn’t have thought it had reasonable odds of working, I wouldn’t have mentioned it.” He let one of his scalpels dance and twirl between his fingers in a practiced motion as he spoke, before gently putting it down again. “Stress, no worries. It’ll be fine. Trust me.”
For a moment, it was silent. Then she nodded.
“Alright, I- I’ll trust you on this.” Stress swallowed heavily. “Ready when you are.”
From there on, Doc took charge, first uprooting the flower again and then instructing Stress to help Iskall drink all the healing and regen potions. The effect was almost immediate: It almost looked as though the swede was glowing from within, and what traces of green were still visible on his skin visibly started fading away. The cyborg only took a single moment to ensure everything was working as intended before nodding to Iskall and hitting him on the side of his head hard with his metal hand. Almost immediately, his eyes rolled back, and he fell unconscious, and then Doc was ready to start the actual procedure.
Little by little, he started cutting away at Iskalls skin, removing the armour bit by bit. It was a tedious task, given that any cuts he made healed almost instantly, combined with the fact that some angles were just really hard to reach. In the end, Stress had to help out with more than just the potions, instead gently pulling on the armour to create space for the surgery. It wasn’t an optimal experience, not in the slightest, but at the very least there was visible progress, and that was something they hadn’t had in a while. Still, once the duo had managed to remove the first few plates of armour they had figured out an efficient way of going about it, and it only took about half an hour of cutting and occasionally knocking Iskall back out before all his armour was on a haphazard pile on the ground.
Doc immediately pulled one of the books from the chest, instead depositing it back into his shulker box, before doing the same to the rest, stacking them back up.
“Interesting, interesting… I should tell Ilmango his theory was correct, as always…” he muttered, while Stress started dabbing away some of the blood and remains of torn cloth. There was lots of it, and she was having none of it. She was going to take care of her friend after what he had gone through, whatever she could do to make him feel more comfortable and more like himself.
Just cleaning wasn’t where she stopped, though. There were other wounds that needed checking, bones that needed setting, and an eye that needed replacing. And while the stacked regeneration effect had definitely done a whole lot for them, there was only so much they could ask of it. Knowing how to properly fuse bones together again was one of those things that still went a bit wrong sometimes, so when she was done cleaning Iskall up a bit, Stress went over the places she was sure had been broken. Like his shoulder.
Much to her relief, though, it seemed that everything had worked out. Sure, there was still a slight dent and a little bit of a bump that hadn’t been there before, but it wasn’t anywhere near major enough that she was going to do anything about it. At some point, the fix would do more damage than it healed, and this was one of those moments. Either way, Stress muttered a few words and let her magic swirl around her hands, cooling the spot down a little to prevent it from swelling in the future.
Meanwhile, Doc worked on the eye. He had fully repaired it, and the only thing left to do was to put it back in the place it had been taken from. Alright, that and fixing the plating around it, so it wouldn’t fall out again. With smooth and practiced motions, he reconnected the wires. Not only had he been the one that had made the prosthetic for Iskall to begin with, but it also mirrored his own, so Doc could just about dream the layout of it all. That, or disassemble and reassemble it all blindfolded. It made the whole process quite speedy. The only thing that really cost time was waiting for the swede to wake up so the last few things could be calibrated properly, but that couldn’t be helped.
With the regeneration effect slowly wearing off, it didn’t even take long before Iskall started to stir again, groaning from what could only be a massive headache. Immediately Stress was there for him, letting a gentle cool wash over his face and head. It was reminiscent of one of the warmer days in their shared base, not cold enough to bite into skin but not really warm either.
“Mmm… Who left the door open?” the swede murmured under his breath, a shiver passing through his body as he subconsciously crossed his arms to keep some warmth in. It only took a moment for Doc to realise what was going on and to shed his tattered lab coat, laying it over Iskall like some kind of improvised blanket. Stress frowned before letting some of her magic fade away again, only cooling the few spots she knew he had been hit at.
“Doc, you know there’s a proper blanket on the bed o’er there, right? Maybe we should just move ‘im there anyway, it’s probably nicer than this table, I fink?” she gestured toward the piece of furniture, and the cyborg just blinked for a moment.
“After I finish taking care of the eye, I’d say. The blanket’s a good call, though.” He nodded, then indeed went to get the blanket. Just for a moment, it seemed like he was planning on just stacking it on top of the lab coat, only to then realise that said coat was full of blood stains thanks to the surgery. In the end, he just switched the two around before putting the coat back on himself.
“Iskall, luv, are you awake again?” Stress asked softly, gently brushing some of his hair out of his face.
“Mmhmm… It… it hurts, Stress. There’s this… this shadow of pain I feel, not there, but also not quite not there,” he responded, his words barely louder than a whisper. His eye was still closed, but his face scrunched up in pain every now and then.
“I know, luv, I know, and it’ll pass. It just takes a bit, right?” She smiled softly even though he couldn’t see her. “For now, though, I’m gonna need you to open your eyes so Doc can do the last few things, okay? After that we’ll move you to a proper bed.”
The swede nodded slowly before slowly blinking open his eye, looking around to see what was going on. His mechanical eye moved along just fine, as far as Stress could see, but Doc almost immediately started tinkering on it to remove some minor flaw.
From there on, things went on in relative silence. The cyborg asked a question every now and then, about which of two settings was better, and Iskall gave his answers before Doc just continued on making small adjustments to the mechanisms. Stress initially just stood and watched, but when it seemed like it could well take ten minutes she just started cleaning up in the area. Picking up bits of discarded cloth, mopping up blood splatters, tidying up the bed to make sure it was ready for Iskall… There was enough busywork she could be doing, and she didn’t mind doing it in the slightest.
In the end, it took fifteen minutes before Doc was satisfied. Then he just lifted the swede up bridal style, blanket and all, and deposited him in the bed. Stress was there almost immediately, tucking him in further and making sure he was comfortable enough. She spoke soothing nonsense, telling him how brave he had been and how proud she was and that it was over now, telling him to just go to sleep and recuperate, that she’d be there when he woke up once more. And Iskall did, slowly drifting to sleep to the sounds of Stress singing and Doc dismantling his redstone.
Everything was peaceful, then, and for the first time in a while, there was hope. Hope for a better future, hope that they could actually get everyone back the way they were before. Hope that they could win.
Notes:
So! First things first! 250k baby! I finally got there!
It's been a while since the last update, which mostly had to do with me having a massive writer's block as well as running a server game for basically all of October. Now, though, it's November, and you might know what that means! That's right, it's time for NaNoWriMo, also known as 'I'm gonna try to finish this story in a month by writing a ridiculous amount', so look forward to that (hopefully, if my brain is kind).
In any case, I wanna say thank y'all for the kind comments these past few months, it's really been a delight to see them pop up in my inbox ^^
Chapter 108: Arc 3 - 32
Summary:
(Joe voice) Tiiiiiiime Skip! Let's get some work done!
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The next few days, time passed both incredibly slowly and incredibly quickly at the same time. Arachne seemed to be preoccupied with those imprisoned in their lair, and the Hermits in the bunker made gratuitous use of the time to heal up as well as to gather resources for what they could only hope would be the final confrontation.
Of course, there were still many problems that needed a solution, such as the issue of where they could actually find the lair, as well as the little issue of the mountains still being on fire. As soon as Stress had named those two things in another emergency meeting, though, groups stepped up to work on them. Cub, Doc, Biffa, and Joe stepped up to work out the exact location their enemy was hiding in. After all, Cub and Doc knew exactly how to use and abuse the surveillance systems, Biffa reckoned he’d know Arachne’s line of reasoning best, and Joe had spent so much time wandering around that he knew of nooks and crannies that others had never even considered before. At about the same time Team ZIT volunteered themselves and Evil X as firefighters, because Tango was mostly fireproof, Impulse and Zedaph were worried about Tango not being completely fireproof, and Evil X didn’t quite trust most of the others yet. Zedaph was already calling it ‘the season’s new hot teambuilding exercise’, which earned him a few facepalms from Jevin and Cleo, a shrug from Impulse, and a wide grin from Tango.
Still, whatever the reasons were for Team ZIT, others were all too happy to just let them do their thing, knowing full well that despite the considerable amount of shenanigans that it was bound to cause, they would also get things done.
Just about everyone that was left in the bunker got assigned resources to collect or process, as well as a partner to do so with. It was something no one had any issues against, knowing full well how dangerous it could be to be out in the world at that point. Sure, being with more people didn’t completely negate any danger, as Tango and Doc could very much recall, but anything that lowered the risk was better than nothing. Stress and TFC stayed behind in order to keep an overview of things, as well as to direct the inflow of resources, while Python and Iskall stayed to heal up and help with crafting the necessary items. Cleo and False went out to brave the Nether for things like ghast tears and blaze rods, as well as travelling out to some of the father reaches of the server to plunder farms and mining deserts alike. At the same time, Keralis and Jevin would go around the various closer bases and farms to plunder whatever useful stock they could find. Tools, equipment, books, potions, resources, whatever they could find that could help, they were taking it.
At the same time, not even all too far away from the bunker, Arachne was still working on their own plans. With three of their little spiders in their new lair, the place was quickly coming together. Their throne was built bit by bit by the one calling them Possessor, and it was shaping up to become a true work of art, despite some… unfortunate setbacks involving creepers blowing up part of it. They’d chastise him for it at a later point, but as it was, they needed him to be healthy enough to finish his task. Elsewhere, the one calling them Sir had been tearing down bridges and buildings alike, replacing them with rooms and pathways that were more their style. Darker, sturdier, with enough hidden corners for spiders to make their webs in. It had changed quite a bit of the ambience of the place, and that was exactly what they had wanted. Lastly, there was the one that called them Master. Their little Sally. He was busy making more cells near the core of the volcano. At the same time, he was the one they sent out to gather some more things from their old lair, knowing he knew his way around there. It was mostly food that was needed, given that it took a while to actually prepare the slurp, and Arachne still required sustenance. Besides, it would be a waste to just leave it there, and they definitely weren’t going to get it themselves.
Not while there were other things they could be doing, like plotting and scheming and trying to… convince the little flies in their web to accept their mark. So far, though… Nothing had managed to sway their resolve, but they were not going to stop trying. After all, Arachne could be very creative in their convincing methods, should it be needed, and right there and then, it definitely seemed as though it was needed. There was a grin on their face as they got back to work once more.
Wels, Mumbo, and Xisuma were far from grinning. Mumbo had screamed his throat raw, hanging on to hope for dear life, no matter how thin that hope was becoming. Wels had resorted to singing again, pouring his energy almost solely into spiting his captor and keeping the mood of his friends up, while Xisuma couldn’t do a whole lot more than trying keep his mind together with every drop of lava that seared its way into his skin. The trio slept whenever they were left alone for long enough to drift away, but none of them would claim it was anywhere near enough to function properly on. It was what they had, though, so it just had to do.
---
It smelled the same on both sides of the Nether portal as they came through, the air thick with smoke from the wildfire. Zedaph instantly inhaled quite a lot of it as he wanted to start saying something, instead devolving into a coughing fit. It earned him a few concerned glances from Tango’s side, while Impulse simply handed him a bright yellow bandanna to tie over his mouth and nose. The trader had done the same thing himself, knowing more or less what to expect. Evil X just kind of stared, before patting Zedaph’s shoulder in an attempt to support him.
“It’s-” he coughed “- quite alright, I’d say.” Another cough, then a bit of silence. “Alright, maybe- Maybe not. But I’ll be-” he coughed again “-I’ll be fine, don’t worry!”
Zed took the bandanna, indeed tying it over his face to keep out some of the smoke. It seemed to make things at the very least a little bit better, because after a few more coughs he completely stopped with them.
“You good now?” Tango asked, a little worry still in his voice as he looked around, trying to get a visual on the actual fire.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s… It’s better now. Let’s just go, the fire won’t fight itself.”
It was something all of them could agree on, and in no time at all they were on their way, moving from the portal in the Halloween district towards the mountains. It seemed as though the broad line of water that had been left there earlier had done very well in its attempt to keep the flames in, and the blazing inferno hadn’t even so much as touched the trees on their side of the water.
“Alright, alright, that’s good. Now we just have to make sure the line goes all the way around the biome, ‘cause Jev and me were kind of forced to stop before we were done.” The demon spoke up again as he waded slightly into the water to get a better view of things.
“Nice! So we just go north and finish this? Sounds doable enough!” Impulse smiled widely as he spoke, already grabbing buckets of water from his inventory and handing them out to everyone.
Evil X accepted his with a bit of a questioning look in his eyes as he switched his gaze between Impulse and Zedaph.
“So the big plan of dealing with this is… Making a perimeter? That’s it? I thought there would be… more involved. Please tell me this isn’t the way you Hermits deal with other things as well.” He didn’t sound angry, but more unsure of how to proceed and how things normally went.
“My friend, so many problems in life can be solved by setting up a perimeter,” Impulse sighed, starting to walk to the north. “Admittedly not all of them, but in this case, it’s actually one of the better solutions, taking everything into account. With a perimeter, we make sure that the fire can’t spread to the rest of the continent, and instead stays contained in the mountains and the area directly around it. It’s the quickest way to minimise damage, and it doesn’t rule out using other options at a later point. It buys us time to figure out what to do next, too, and even if we decide to do nothing, it’ll mean the fire will eventually just run out of fuel and die without us having to extinguish it all.”
For a second, Evil X thought, letting the words sink in.
“That sounds reasonable, when you put it like that.”
“Yep! No worries, Xanota, we are generally quite competent, despite the outwards appearance,” Zedaph laughed. It was the start of a series of jokes and shenanigans as they moved up to where the perimeter of water ended, just enjoying the sunlight and being outside again. There weren’t any mobs on their side of the water, but they could occasionally see the burnt husks of spiders that had met their fiery end.
It put all of them at least somewhat at ease that there weren’t any spiders plotting their violent end for once. Fire simply was a whole lot more mundane, and a whole lot more predictable. Sure, the inferno was still quite a significant danger, but they also had a very clear idea on how to deal with it, which made everything feel easier.
That good mood didn’t drop in the slightest, not even when they came to the end of the water, and they found out that the fire had indeed spread beyond it, though mercifully not by much. At that point it simply meant a slight deviation of the plans, nothing more, nothing less. Tango started directing people around, explaining the strategy him and Jevin had used earlier. Then he started moving, creating a dotted line of watersources as he went, laying out the route they were taking. The other three followed suit, with Zedaph and Evil X filling the holes, while Impulse used a pair of shovels to whack out any rogue flames that tried licking at the trees or alternatively used his axe to just cut down the offending trees.
With the four of them, it felt like the whole process went faster than with just two people, and that was probably true. The perimeter grew quickly, despite Tango having to check his maps of the area and despite him having to fly up every once in a while, to get an aerial view of the situations. They didn’t even really have to run for it, either, which was nice. Less running meant they grew hungry slower, which also meant they needed fewer snack breaks. Whether the lack of sprinting actually made it faster or not was still up in the air, though, although all of them could confirm that it was actually a lot less tiring if they could just keep walking at a steady pace instead of running.
In the end, they didn’t even need the full day to finish laying down the perimeter, having reached the swamp in the north. The swamp was full of water, after all, and everything was damp, so they doubted any flame would spread far there. Especially because there weren’t really a whole lot of trees, and the grass would only sustain the fire for a short while. Still, Tango made a point of it to still lay down at least a few lines of water for safety, and Impulse added to that by felling yet more trees, ensuring the fire really wouldn’t spread there.
From there on out, Team ZIT and Evil X started expanding the perimeter more towards the fire. Whenever there was a section that they felt could be cut off from the rest, they’d go for it, taking away quite some of the parts where the fire could spread to within the initial perimeter. That trick mostly worked for the parts outside of the mountains, though. The cliffs themselves were too large, too unpredictable to make it work properly, and Tango noted that he had a different plan for taking care of them.
Still, there came a point when they had no other way to go than into the mountains. To be more specific, that point came the second day they were working on it, at about noon. While Evil X didn’t seem to mind it all that much, and Tango was basically beaming with excitement, Impulse and Zedaph weren’t quite as enthusiastic about it.
“Are you sure this is safe?” Impulse asked as the demon was loading up on water buckets in a hastily created infinite watersource.
“Nope! Shouldn’t be too dangerous though, nothing I can’t handle. Don’t worry!” he grinned as he responded, which didn’t in the slightest put Zedaph at ease.
“Tango, that only makes me worry more! I know you’re mostly fireproof, but that keyword is the problem! Mostly! Please just… Please be careful, alright?”
“Relax, I’ve dealt with hotter fires, and I’m nowhere near about to make a wildfire of all things be the reason for me to burn to death. Trust me, I got this. Besides, I got Ev- Xanota there to back me up and help out, isn’t that right?” Again, Tango smiled, this time at Evil X, who was stocking up on buckets of water too.
“Seems like it, yes. If I understood you correctly, you take the peaks, I take the valleys, right?”
“Yep! You section off each mountain, I dump more water down them to hopefully wash away fuel and flame alike. Should work smoothly!” The demon put a few more buckets of water into a shulker box before putting it into his inventory. Then he started filling up yet more buckets to just keep in his inventory, while Evil X did basically the same thing.
“Okay, and in the meanwhile, what do you want us to do? We can’t just stand around doing nothing, that wouldn’t feel right…” Zed looked as though he really wanted to be useful but didn’t quite know how just yet.
It did make Tango stop for a moment, though, rubbing his chin as he looked into the distance.
“Aerial support? Telling us where to go next, parts we missed, that kind of thing? Oh! And making sure we aren’t ambushed by spiders. I don’t know if any of them survived this long, but I’d rather not take the chance some of them hid away in a cave or something.”
“I can do that! I can fly and look at things!” Zedaph almost beamed as he cut in. “And I can shout really loudly, so you should be able to hear me even through some noise. Want me to demonstrate?” He smiled widely, before breathing in, presumably to shout something.
“No, no, no, I believe you Zed! No need to call attention to ourselves!” Impulse quickly interrupted, almost physically dragging Zedaph away before he could do silly things. “Let’s just go, I think we al know what to do now!”
Evil X had to hold back a chuckle, for the first time in a while feeling properly calm and content. Much as he didn’t quite want to show weaknesses, he had missed human contact, and this was exactly the kind of contact he wanted more of. Just… Friends, joking around. And so, with a big smile on his face, he double-checked his armour and the diamond plating on it, before grabbing a last bucket.
“Ready when you all are!”
Tango nodded as he tightened the last few straps of his elytra, taking a rocket in one hand and a bucket in the other.
“Let’s go fight this fire!”
With that, he took off, launching himself into the air and towards the mountains. It kicked the rest of the group into motion as well, with Zedaph and Impulse taking to the skies while Evil X just started walking towards the nearest valley. Impulse stuck close to him, sword in hand, while Zed followed after Tango to provide a birds-eye view of the whole operation. It took a bit for them to find a rhythm that worked for them, with Evil X having to wade through water the whole time to prevent the flames from properly reaching him while the terrain worked against him, and Tango having difficulty finding the best spots to put water and make it actually cover as much of the mountain as possible. Eventually, though, they figured out a system that worked, and from there on their speed only increased.
While Zedaph and Impulse were a bit hesitant at first to come too close, after the first mountain they started diving in more often, taking out small bits of fire that Tango’s water had missed, or tag-teaming to close off cave openings that still had living spiders in them. The second mountain went quicker than the first, and the group even managed a third and fourth mountain before the sun started its descent to the horizon.
It was their cue to start leaving, because none of them felt particularly happy about staying in the mountains after dark. Not after what happened last time.
Beside, with the progress they had made, they were looking forwards to going back to the bunker for a nice hot meal and some well-deserved rest. The rest of the mountains would come in the morning.
Notes:
do you ever just kind of timelapse problems getting taken care of so you can return to the main quest cause I sure do
Chapter 109: Arc 3 - 33
Summary:
From one admin to another...
Notes:
TW's:
mentions of stuff piercing skin throughout the chapter
mentions of off-screen torture throughout the chapter
Chapter Text
Time had lost all meaning for him. For all he cared, it could have stopped existing, and he wouldn’t even have noticed. There was simply no way for him to keep track of it, not while he was trapped in darkness, fading in and out of consciousness. At first, he had thought that perhaps there would be some kind of rhythm to the drops of lava dripping down on him, but right there and then, he knew that that was an idle hope. If there was a rhythm, it was lost to him. The only thing he could do was trash weakly in his bonds every time one splashed down on the accumulating layer of stone and dried blood on his chest.
Truth was, Xisuma wanted it to stop. He just wanted all of it to be over, for him to be safe and not in pain and able to actually properly breathe the very air that surrounded him. He also knew exactly what he had to do to actually get to that point, if the other Hermits wouldn’t come.
He wasn’t going to accept the mark, though. He wouldn’t let himself, no matter how much his body screamed. Accepting that damned thing would essentially hand over the safety of the world and all his friends to a megalomaniacal sadistic spider person, and he was not about to do that. It went against his sense of pride, and against his sense of duty, and while his pride was diminishing, his sense of duty only rose with every scream he heard coming from the other prisoners of the place. He knew Mumbo was there, and he was quite certain Wels was also there, if he had correctly recognised the song that he had been singing on and on and on. He at the very least owed it to them to not let their pain be in vain. After all, if he gave in, why would they keep fighting? It would all be over at that point.
And so, Xisuma laid there, waiting for the next drop, waiting for someone to come in, waiting for his body to finally give out and allowing him to respawn. It was never enough, though. No matter how much damage the lava did, no matter how much damage the spiked bands did, it simply wasn’t enough to kill him. He knew it should have been, and yet… It was almost as though he was getting healed every now and then, although he had no idea when it actually happened. Not while he was awake, in any case, so it had to happen during those times where his lungs simply couldn’t pump enough oxygen to his head, or those moments where the pain was so much his system just shut down for a while. Or perhaps it happened during those few times he had actually managed to take a bit of a nap between two drops. Whatever was the case, he had no way of really knowing. Besides him, it was as though nothing in the room changed.
That was, until the door opened once more, revealing Arachne standing there again. Xisuma struggled to lift up his head, just to make him seem stronger than he still was, and stared at them in an attempt at calm awaiting. The fact that he was shaking with exertion the whole time was a fact he opted to ignore.
“And? Are you ready to give in by now, little Worldshaper?” Their mandibles spread in a grin as they talked, and there was little more Xisuma wanted as much as to wipe it off their damned face. Instead, he just pointedly shook his head, a clear sign of what he wanted.
“Such a shame. Such a waste.” They shook their head, before moving backwards a little bit. “Begin, my little spiders!”
Almost immediately, the near-silence of the cave was replaced by a heart-breaking scream, one the admin recognised as being Mumbo. He didn’t want to hear it, and his eyes widened in shock.
Am I… Are they going to make me responsible for how long this torture goes on?
He tried not to listen to the screams that followed, tried not to look at Arachne, whose face was contorting in twisted joy. They were enjoying it, and he had this inkling that they wouldn’t be the one to call it all off. Xisuma let out a shaky breath as he steeled himself. Much as he wanted to say something, wanted to do something to help his friends, he also knew that the best thing he could do to help right there and then would be to do nothing at all. Even when there was a single, blood-curdling roar of pain coming from Wels, the first time he heard him make another sound than singing, the admin forced himself not to respond.
His tear ducts didn’t get the memo, however. He felt his face growing wet as he lay there, looking out into what was once the base of one of his friends, trying to block out the sounds of his friends in distress. He didn’t want to know what was happening to them, what torture could be so horrific that it had finally managed to break Wels, but despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering.
He must have made a sound, because the next thing he knew was Arachne bending over him, taking his face in their hands and forcing him to look at them.
“You can stop this, you know? Or is the high and mighty Worldshaper not even strong enough to save his friends?” They chuckled, and this time he definitely made a sound, a choked sob. “Well? Go on then, work your magic. Stop my little spiders, before it’s too late. Or can’t you? Hmm? Perhaps I misjudged you. Perhaps you are simply worthless of the title.”
The words stung, but Xisuma tried his best to ignore them.
They’re your enemy. Of course they’re trying to break you. Of course they’re trying to make you doubt your own abilities.
Once more, he shook his head, trying to keep himself from shaking, trying to keep himself from crying as their words effortlessly popped his self-esteem like a balloon, as they easily found those words that hurt him the most.
“I wonder… Why are they even friends with you, if this is how you treat them? Did you promise them power?” Again, they chuckled, a sound that sent shivers running down his spine. “If you did, they really made the wrong choice, little Worldshaper. Look at you, all powerless the moment your voice is taken away. All powerless without your fancy gadgets. You strayed so far from what a Worldshaper is supposed to be, and you don’t even know.”
Their claws dug into the tender flesh of his cheeks and neck, drawing blood as they pulled him closer still, so close he could smell the scent of blood and rotting meat wafting from their mandibles.
“I could teach you to be stronger, and all it takes is for you to accept my mark. A small price to pay for power, isn’t it?”
Despite their grip on his head, he still tried shaking his head. No. No, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t betray everything he stood for, not for power. He tried forming a word, despite knowing fully well that the gag of web would muffle it beyond recognition. Still, he simply had to try. He had to let them know how wrong they were, how he would never give in just like that, no matter how much it hurt.
In the end, he was correct, the noise that came out of his mouth was nowhere near close to a word, but at the very least it sounded like he was disagreeing, and that was enough.
“Of course you would say that, little Worldshaper. And this is exactly what sets us apart. Why I am better than you. Why you were destined to lose from the moment you first set foot in my world.”
The words sank deep, as for the first time Xisuma didn’t know what to think. Did Arachne really think this was their world? But they hadn’t even been inside of it for two months, why were they saying that?
Again, the admin made a noise of disagreement, loud enough for the spider to hear. He stared into their eyes defiantly, or rather, as defiantly as he could, knowing full well that he was at their complete mercy.
“Oh? Don’t you believe me? Do you really think you were the first to find this world? That it exists solely to cater to you and your little group? Because if you think so, you’re far more ignorant than I thought.” They chuckled, finally letting go of his face, getting some distance and putting a hand on the spot where their upper body met the spidery abdomen. “You see, I was here before. I have been here for years, for centuries, for millennia even. This world is mine. Or at least, it should be. I fought for that privilege. I convinced the one before me to grant me their powers, if only for a second, and in that very second I took them down.” A grin appeared on their face before fading away again. “Those villagers, they definitely didn’t enjoy the idea of me ruling over them. They tried to fight, tried to spread tales of a monstrous spider that would take their sons and cattle, but they did nothing that could actually hurt me, and so I hurt them back instead. Still, they were far too… breakable to become proper servants. Fodder, perhaps, simply there to catch an arrow before dying, but you know as well as I do that those idiots have trouble moving outside of the strict rules their societies have. Although sometimes… Sometimes it’s possible to get them on your side. Sometimes you can take an entire village at once, if you’re smart about it. And yet…”
Arachne balled their hands into fists as they spoke, clearly not a fan of villagers. Xisuma could at the very least understand that stance a little bit. They were very finicky to work with, to say the least, especially when they decided that the fact that someone traded some sticks with them had to mean that they should keep their job forever.
“And yet, there were too many. Too many villagers, too many villages. By the time I would take over the tenth or the twentieth, the first had a completely new population if I was lucky, and none at all if I was unlucky. Servants or not, they were… incapable of defending themselves against things like zombies. That’s how I knew I had to make a different plan. Taking over village by village, that was not going to happen. As such… Well. I waited. I bided my time. I honed my skills, found out secrets of Worldshaping none had discovered before. All in preparation for the day when I would finally subject this world, become its true and only ruler.”
Xisuma actually laughed at that. A sneering laugh, a dry, humourless laugh that showed how little he cared, how much he enjoyed hearing about their misery.
“And then you came. You and those… flies you call your friends. I was wondering why they followed you, thinking that you must have done something to them, something like I was doing. But you weren’t. Of course you weren’t. No, they followed you, simply because you asked. Because of friendship. I will never understand that. Either way, your appearance changed things. It set things in motion you would never know. I felt you arriving, I simply knew this world had bound itself to another Worldshaper. Not completely, not in the slightest, but I knew it was no longer purely mine.”
Again, they came closer, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him upwards ever so slightly, into the spiked bands keeping him down. Xisuma let out a hiss of pain as they pierced into his already broken skin, and struggled slightly to get loose, but to no avail.
“And I knew that I hated you. Purely hated you, even before I knew exactly who you were. But that wasn’t all. I knew that I wanted you. Wanted to own you, rule over you like the little fly you truly are. I knew that by using your powers, that by using your friends, I would be able to get what I had always wanted. Can’t you see it? Those other little flies… They are not like the villagers. They are stronger. More durable. And most importantly, they don’t die. Not like the monsters do, not like the villagers do. When you die, you come back. It was perfect. And all I had to do was gather up my strength and wait for the right time to get one of you. And then, almost as though he knew what I wanted, that pink and yellow fly decided to try and leave. He tried to leave my world, but I didn’t let him. Instead… I took him. I brought him into my lair, and broke his little mind until he accepted his fate, accepted what he was always destined to be. My servant. My first servant, with which I could rule this world properly.”
Arachne actually stopped speaking for a moment in order to let out a very pleased cackle, while the admin just wished they’d let him go.
“I took that little device of his, and it was pathetically easy to make it recognise me as its new owner. From then on… It all came down to preparing for the moment I could take more. Watching. Waiting. Biding my time, having my first little spider set up a few things. When I found out there were some of you that followed a routine almost as strictly as one of those villagers, I knew who to target. I knew where to make my webs. And I took him and I broke him. I turned a pathetic little fly into a good little spider. At the same time- Well. I won’t bore you with the details, little Worldshaper. You know as well as I do what happened from there on out. You weren’t even a worthy opponent. You lost the moment I took the first of your friends.”
The admin made a sound of disagreement while his thoughts raced, trying to place all of the information that had just been given to him. Almost served on a golden platter, even. He simply hoped it wasn’t a metaphorical last meal. In return, Arachne pulled him up further, and whatever sounds he was making devolved into a soft whine.
“And now… Now I just have to make you accept my mark, and then it’s over. With the power of another Worldshaper completely at my command, taking over won’t be difficult. Not anymore.” They grinned that horrible grin of theirs. “Until you accept, my little spiders will not stop. Those friends of yours will suffer, and it will all be because of you. So for once, be a smart little Worldshaper, and accept.”
His eyes widened; his fear having become a reality. He unwillingly focussed on the screams and sobs of pain coming from what he could only presume were other cells, and Xisuma swallowed heavily.
I… I can’t accept it. Who says they’ll actually stop if I do? I’m sorry, Mumbo, Wels, but- You’ll have to hold on for now, until the other Hermits come. They’ll come, any time now.
“Well? What will it be, Worldshaper? Accept, you know it’s inevitable.” They bent forward as they spoke, their face so close that he could feel their breath wash over him. So close that he could see every little detail of them, every hair, even the droplets of venom beading up on the ends of their mandibles.
Close enough that his next move didn’t require any thought.
Xisuma headbutted Arachne with all strength he had left, not caring that it hurt a little when he made contact with their carapace. That was a small price to pay for the joy of seeing them jerk backwards, away from him. Under the layers of cobwebs covering his mouth, he was smiling as they hissed in pain.
How’s that for an answer, huh?
“You will regret that.” Their words sounded cold, calculated, and dangerous. Perhaps it had been a mistake to try and attack, but it was the only thing he could do to work against them right there and then. Arachne started hissing and clicking a series of sounds, before moving their hands around in a specific way, and almost to his surprise, he recognised it as admin magic. Or well, something close to it, in any case. It wasn’t a command he had seen before, but it became clear what it did the moment they started pressing the metal restraints further into the stone below him as though it was clay, forcing the spikes into his skin. Xisuma tried going against it, of course he did, but there was very little that he could actually do. Not while gagged, not while his hands were encased in stone. They were stronger, too, so much stronger, so he couldn’t even try to keep some breathing room. Arachne just kept pushing and pushing and pushing until even the smallest of movements sent the spikes deeper into him, ripping through his flesh. It was all he could do not to scream.
“There. Let me know when you change your mind, little Worldshaper.” They grinned maliciously, before turning and leaving. The door stayed open, though, almost as though they were making sure he could properly hear his friends suffering. It also allowed him to look out into Scar’s volcano, seeing what it was becoming, how it was changing. Gone were the little details the landscaper had put in so lovingly, replaced by nothing but dark stone and cobwebs. It pained him to see the place like that, but it pained him even more to see Scar – or the one currently puppeteering his body, at the very least – actually carving large depictions of spiders into the walls, as though nothing about the situation was bothering him.
Despite him not wanting them to, more tears dripped down the sides of his face. Why was all of this just one punch in the gut after another? Why couldn’t he have protected his people? Why did he now have to listen to friends being in agony, while watching another deface the build he had put together through months and months of work? Was there anything he could have done differently, any way he could have evaded all of this, or was it true what Arachne had said, did he simply join a losing game?
His mutterings were broken by a white-hot pain erupting from his chest, all too familiar by then. His body moved seemingly on its own, shaking and trashing to get the lava off of him, in the process driving the spikes deeper into him. Xisuma didn’t even bother trying to hide his pain, letting out a wordless shriek as his nerves got essentially overloaded with feelings until they just couldn’t handle it anymore.
He was panting heavily as he looked out into the volcano, his sight blurry and blackening around the edges. The admin would swear Scar was looking at him, something blue flashing on his face before the man simply nodded and went to do something else.
After that, the blackness overtook his sight completely, and Xisuma fell into a merciful unconsciousness.
Chapter 110: Arc 3 - 34
Summary:
The embers of the fire hide a treasure...
Notes:
chapter contains more spiders than average. be warned.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The next morning, Team ZIT left early, Evil X in tow. They had some more mountains to extinguish and given that Biffa and the tech team had had no success in finding Arachne’s lair just yet, they still had quite some time to get more of the fire under control.
As they arrived, they were happy to find their earlier measures had worked, and that the fire had even died down a little more than expected. It really caused a good mood, and the firefighters enthusiastically started extinguishing the first mountain of the day. As they worked, they were almost constantly cracking jokes, splashing each other with water, and telling unbelievable stories. Despite the very present danger, they were having a lot of fun.
That was, until they came across the mineshaft, relatively low down on the mountain. It was hard to discern it was any different from a cave at first, given how all wooden beams and pillars inside it had burnt to ashes, but the regularity of the hole definitely stood out. Impulse was just about to start closing it up without paying it more attention, but then he stopped right in his tracks.
“Uh, guys? At what point does a group of spiders become ‘unnaturally large’? Because uh- I think we might have an unnaturally large group of spiders on our hands. Large enough to warrant an investigation, I’d say,” he said, his eyes unwavering from the relatively dark tunnel. There were indeed quite a lot of spiders sitting there, with fresh webbing starting a ways into the tunnel, spun over the top of charred wood.
Tango whistled in awe, grabbing his sword.
“I think you’re right on the money, there. They all have the same green eyes too, and I’d say they were cave spiders, were it not for the size.”
“Well, let’s get Xanota up here, and let’s go take a peek! If those spiders already managed to make this many new webs, the source of this all might just be in here!” Zedaph cut in, landing in the opening of the tunnel and plopping down a few torches to light it up a little. “Impulse can you hold them off for a bit? Then Tango and I can give Xanota a bit of an airlift, if you catch my drift.” He grinned broadly as he checked the straps of his elytra. The thing wasn’t made to support two people, but one and a half should be doable, especially if another person with an elytra did the same.
“Yep, I got this! I’ll just block it off for now, I got a pickaxe with me anyway,” the trader nodded, starting to put down a thin wall of cobblestone with practiced ease.
The other two didn’t even wait for him to finish talking, and they dove off into the ravine Evil X was still watering up. It probably hadn’t been completely necessary, given that the stone walls stopped being singed and covered in sooth about halfway down, just a bit above where the first of several streams of lava came pouring down from the side. Almost as though the spiders had known that mixing a flaming hot liquid with very flammable materials tended to result in fire and ash.
Still, necessary or not, Evil X had insisted on making sure that they should follow the pattern, just in case, and he had seemed so passionate about doing it right that none of Team ZIT had it in them to tell him otherwise. Mostly because every time either Tango or Impulse tried saying something about it, Zedaph’s elbow managed to find its way into an unprotected bit of their sides, but those were details. Details that didn’t matter all too much in the grand scheme of things.
While the others were flying, Impulse widened out the entrance to the tunnel a bit, even going so far as to add a bit of a platform in front of it for easy landing and take-off. Then, because the others weren’t back yet, he went and installed a makeshift guardrail so none of them would accidentally fall down if they were driven back by spiders, and he was just about to start thinking of more ways he could improve the situation when Tango and Zedaph landed next to him, carrying a very pale-looking Evil X between the two of them. Paler than usual, even. His eyes were wide and wild, and it looked as though he was considering hugging the floor the moment he touched it again.
“I’m- I’m never doing that again,” he muttered in the end, while Zed just chuckled beside him. “I don’t get how you all stand it.”
“You get used to it, I guess! After all this is over, you can borrow one of my spare elytra, and we can go over the basics together, if you want?” Zedaph smiled widely, but not maliciously so as he started fiddling with the straps of his elytra, switching it out for a chestplate.
“Not in a thousand years,” Evil X responded without missing a beat. He grabbed his sword, holding it in his hand as he looked around.
“Good, now that we’re all here, we’re going into what might well be a very dangerous place. We can handle it, though! Worst case, we clear it in sections, blocking off everything we don’t need as we go, lighting it up, and taking down the webs,” Impulse started, and the way he said it made it all sound very easy. A lot easier than it probably was going to be. “Remember, this isn’t our main objective, so while of course we should give it our all, the moment it gets too dangerous, we’re blocking it off and we’re leaving. It would be good to find the source of these spiders, though…”
“Probably a spawner, knowing abandoned mineshafts,” Tango cut in. “There might be multiple, even, judging by the sheer amount of spiders over there, but then again, we don’t know for sure how long they’ve been hanging around here. They won’t be hanging around much longer, though. Not on my watch.”
As he spoke, he conjured a small flame, letting it dance around his fingers while a grin spread on his lips.
“Uh, Tango? We might want to, you know, not cause a second wildfire?” Zed sounded vaguely concerned, but a hint of excitement also filtered through into his voice.
“Fine, fine! I won’t set them all on fire, then.” The demon’s smile sank into a pout as he let the wisp of flame die out again.
“I mean… If you’re careful, you could probably set a few of them on fire?” Evil X patted Tango on his shoulder compassionately, and the demon nodded gravely.
“Thanks, Xanota, you’re a true friend.”
“True friends let each other set enemies on fire, indeed.” It sounded like Ex was choking on his words a little bit, as though he was holding back a sob, and he patted Tango faster now.
“Riiight… Alright, are we going to just keep standing here? Those spiders won’t go kill themselves,” Impulse spoke, breaking the moment. He was right, though, and they all knew it. Ex retracted his hand, taking up his sword instead. Zedaph swallowed heavily, but took on a fighting stance, torch in one hand, sword in the other. Tango nodded, getting ready while Impulse took his pickaxe and started mining away the temporary wall.
It seemed like the spiders hadn’t noticed them yet, which was a good thing. The four of them moved in, swords at the ready, moving quickly to cover as much ground as they could while remaining unnoticed. Zed put down torches every so often, making sure other monsters wouldn’t start appearing in the dark behind them. That was the last the firefighters could use at that point, and as such, they were doing their best to avoid it.
When the first of the spiders turned their way and looked at them, hissing and clicking in curiosity, it wasn’t unexpected. It had even taken longer than all of them had expected. Still, the moment the first spider spotted them, the others followed suit, turning to them and hissing, their mandibles opening and closing as though they were sizing them up. Then the arachnids came at them in earnest, a wave of eyes and scuttling legs washing towards the firefighters.
Team ZITX was ready, though. They hacked and slashed away like a well-oiled machine, with Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango effortlessly covering for each other without words. Evil X had some more difficulty joining in on the dance of blades, not quite used to fighting along with others just yet. Still, the moment the others noticed, they changed their rhythm, basing it off of what Ex was doing and simply letting him lead.
The effect was something akin to a blender specifically tailored to blend spiders in.
Twitching legs flew through the air as this sword or another hacked it off, while yet another blade sliced the accompanying body in half. It repeated again and again and again, the firefighters winning ground with every step. There weren’t quite as many spiders as back in Arachne’s lair, but there were still a lot of them, and the risk of getting bitten and poisoned was quite present at all times.
Evil X in particular had a few close calls. Twice or thrice, a spider managed to live long enough to touch its mandibles to his armour, searching for soft flesh to sink its fangs in. Luckily, though, he had some true friends that didn’t mind setting the offending spiders on fire, and Tango happily kicked the burning corpses away.
Still, they kept on moving forward, following the tunnel deeper and deeper into the mountain until they finally got to the first split in the road. The path leading on straight ahead ended abruptly, where something had blasted away the floor and parts of the walls. To the right was a path that seemingly went down lower into the earth, while on the left, the cobwebs were thicker, with something glowing green somewhere deeper into the layers and layers of web.
“I’m gonna make a guess and say that’s the thing we’re looking for,” Impulse said, pointing at the left path.
“Spooky green glow, tons of cobwebs, lots of spiders? Yeah, that checks out.” Tango started quickly blocking off the other two tunnels, and Zedaph put down a few torches, just in case. The crater in the tunnel in front showed that there were probably some creepers around, or at least that there had been, and none of them felt like discovering whether there were more. All in all, though, it didn’t take all that long before they were ready to go on, ready to deal with whatever was glowing green.
Speaking of the glow, it suddenly intensified for a moment, as though something activated, and a second later multiple sets of green eyes came charging towards them. The attached spiders were larger than normal cave spiders, but still bore the same blueish colourations, and despite their size they were just as quick as their smaller cousins.
It had taken the firefighters almost by surprise, and they surely would have been bitten were it not for Impulse’ quick actions, putting his sword right between a spider and Zedaph, then moving it around to block a second spider going for Tango. It pushed all of them into motion, back to fighting shoulder to shoulder, hacking through arachnid and cobweb alike until the path to the spawner was clear. Because the glow had been a spawner, although it looked slightly different from normal. The glow wasn’t supposed to be green but orange, and it seemed as though the bars of the mob cage had also slightly shifted, forming more of a web than a grid. It could have been a trick of the light, though, combined with the layers of cobwebs covering the thing.
Either way, Team ZITX only had to exchange a single glance before Zedaph started putting up more torches around the thing, while Impulse got ready to break it, and Evil X and Tango had their swords up, ready to defend them from any spiders that decided to defend their spawner.
And defending the spiders did. Whereas before they had attacked them much like regular spiders would, the moment they touched the spawner, everything changed. First of all, it started pulsing a green light, and with every pulse, spiders started appearing, even in places that would normally be too light for them to do so. Spiders that were absolutely, positively thirsty for blood. Secondly, the arachnids seemed stronger, in a way, requiring many more attacks before they actually went down. That’s what it felt like for Tango and Evil X, at least. Perhaps it was simply because any spider that died got replaced almost instantly by a new one, fangs dripping with poison as they tried to slip past their defences. It was a blessing when Zedaph decided to give up on placing torches and joined them in fighting, forming a triangle around Impulse and the spawner.
The trader, meanwhile, was tirelessly hacking away at the mob cage, splinters of dark metal shooting away every time his pickaxe made contact. A few cracks were visible already, but the spawner somehow felt sturdier than it was supposed to be, as though it had been enchanted with unbreaking or protection. There was no tell-tale glow, though, and as such, Impulse could only assume it was strengthened by whatever had caused the green glow. He was sure there would be Hermits that would have loved to be able to research it, but they’d probably understand why nothing but total destruction of the thing would do. He’d even make sure to neatly pile up any remaining splinters before dunking a bucket of lava over them. Whatever was left he’d then throw into the Void, where no one would be able to retrieve it from.
The pickaxe struck again and again and again as the others were fighting around him, keeping away more and more spiders until suddenly, the spawner finally gave in, shattering to pieces. The spiders didn’t stop attacking, though, although no new ones came to their aid. Slowly but surely, the Hermits thinned out the horde until there simply wasn’t any living spider left. There only was a rough circle of spider remains, spread around the pile of spawner shards that were slowly turning to dust.
“Well done, team!” Zed exclaimed, holding up his hand to high-five everyone. “Mission successful, even if it never really was our mission to do this!” He had a derpy grin from ear to ear, and it didn’t take long for his good mood to spread to the others. Tango and Impulse were quick to high-five Zed and then each other, while Evil X stood there doubting for a second before Tango pulled him in as well.
Then Impulse cleared his throat.
“Gentlemen, if I may? Please step back for a moment, I need to do something.”
For a second, the others stared at him, until he got a bucket of lava out of his inventory. There was a glimmer in Tango’s eyes, and he smiled.
“Aaaah, scorched earth policies. I like your style, go right ahead.” The demon took a step back, and the other two followed suit.
Impulse looked around briefly, lifting up the bucket of lava high above his head.
“Spiders… Goodbye. See you never.”
With those words, he unceremoniously dumped the bucket of lava over the remains of the spawner, quickly moving away from it before it would spill over his feet and legs. The shards sizzled for a moment before disappearing completely, and the spider corpses quickly caught fire, burning to ashes in no time at all. Some were a bit too far away to burn, so Tango just kind of shoved the missed bits into the lava until there was nothing left that would indicate anything having ever happened there.
For a brief moment, Impulse considered taking back the lava, but ultimately decided against it. It wasn’t like lava was a rare commodity anyway, and he personally had the feeling that he’d sleep better knowing whatever was left of what was left of the spawner was still nicely dumped in lava.
“Let’s close this off and leave. We still have quite a bit of mountain to extinguish,” he spoke, already grabbing some more stone. The rest agreed quickly, knowing full well that they had spent enough time on this already, even though it was time well spent.
Within no time at all they had put up a wall of a few blocks thick, thicker than they normally would, but none of them particularly felt like a single block between the outside world and the remains of the spawner was quite enough. Beside, with the four of them, those few extra layers weren’t even all too much of a bother, and before they knew it, they were on their way out again, putting some more torches on the walls to make sure nothing would spawn there. As they got to the end, Impulse instructed them to start fighting fire without him, and he would deal with the opening to the mineshaft. It only took him a brief moment of convincing before Evil X let himself be carried back down the ravine in order to continue putting his line of water there, and not long later, he was alone on the little balcony again, putting smooth stone into the wall in such a way that it looked natural again. If he had had the time for it, he’d have loved to fill as much of the mineshaft as he could with stone, making it nigh impossible to reach the location the spawner had been at, but this would just have to do. It was a quick enough fix with a large enough effect, and it was better than nothing.
When he was all done with that, Impulse removed the little balcony of stone and the handrails he had placed earlier, before hacking away the block below him, spreading his elytra as he fell. He pulled a few rockets out of his inventory, firing them off and launching himself higher into the air.
They still had a task to do, after all.
Notes:
i totally hadn't forgotten about the spawner until people in the comments of two chapters ago reminded me, not at all, why would you ever think so
Chapter 111: Arc 3 - 35
Summary:
The mask you wear reveals your true identity...
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It is time, be ready.
The shrill voices echoed through his mind, and for the shortest moment, Scar was confused as to what was happening, what had changed. He hadn’t even bothered keeping track of the time, knowing full well that it didn’t matter in the long run, knowing full well that all he had to do was waiting for the Vex to finally make their move. And perhaps shielding himself from the outside was a defence mechanism. Perhaps he didn’t want to hear his friends in pain, perhaps he didn’t want to see himself deconstructing the things he had spent months building.
Still, now was not the time to ponder over that kind of thing. Now was finally the time for action, finally the time to take back what was his. Now was the time to fight.
He felt the familiar cool feeling of Vex influence washing over his body as it started moving towards one of the few buildings that hadn’t been torn down yet, the one where at the very least part of his chestmonster was stored. The one where he kept his ender chest, too. And it seemed like the Vex were nudging that other him straight towards it, promising that there were special things in there, things that would really elevate this build to new heights. Things that would please his Possessor, if he just managed to put them in the right places.
It almost felt like a miracle that that other him simply went along with it, actually thinking it was his own idea. How the Vex managed to do things like that, Scar would never know, but at the same time, he was relatively sure that he didn’t want to know.
His hand brushed over the chests as he passed them, until he was right in front of the ender chest, and he reached out towards it. It opened smoothly, with not even a single creak of the hinges, revealing the contents that were still stuck in Scars personal pocket dimension. The most important thing, though, was laid on top of it all.
A mask, light blue, white, and grey, power radiating away from it. His hand reached out to brush it aside, looking for blocks or other ornaments, but the moment his hand touched the smooth surface of the mask, everything changed. A shot of cool electricity made its way from the mask, through his fingers and his arm straight into his torso, and Scar got forcibly pulled to the front of his mind once more, that other him… Seemingly no longer there. Seemingly kicked back to a small, frozen corner of his mind, kept in check by a dozen skittering voices. Voices that he recognised all too well. Vex.
Thank you. I assume this is the moment where I try to flee?
Ye think quickly. That is indeed correct. However, make sure ye don’t call attention upon yourself. Make it seem natural that ye go out, and then do not come back here.
I will. Thank you so much, thank you for giving me this chance, it will not be in vain.
Remember, ye owe us now.
Of course I do. I had expected nothing less, oh mighty Vex.
With that out of the way, he slipped the mask into his inventory, out of sight but still close to him. The next issue was how he was actually going to leave. He knew instinctively that there was still some terraforming that needed doing, after that other him had torn part of the roof out, so that would be an excellent reason to go outside.
Scar tried to hide his excitement and fear as he looked through the various shulkers and chests strewn about, looking for blocks that would be logical for him to have if he was to go out, as well as the wood he needed for a crafting table and a boat. He’d only make those once he got out, to make sure he had no incriminating things on him until the moment of his escape. It would be… Less than optimal if he was caught by any of the others, with things on him that made it very clear he was no longer one of those little spiders that Arachne seemed so fond of calling them all.
Speaking of the others, he only spent the shortest of moments looking at the various open cells, at the various friends he was going to have to leave behind. If he could, he would have taken them all, but escaping on his own was risky enough as it was, and ultimately, if he could get out and tell the others where the lair had moved to… That meant the others could mount a proper rescue mission. He hoped, at least.
Would they even trust me? I mean, I think only Wels and the people here know I was turned, but- No, wait, Iskall. Iskall would also know. And Iskall isn’t here, now is he? Would he have told them? Oh, whatever, I just- Even if they don’t trust me, I’ll just have to make them. I’m back in control, that’s how simple it is.
Scar nodded to himself as he started moving, deliberately keeping his head down as he navigated through the familiar yet different pathways of the volcano. They had been changed to stone, which while sturdier also really took away from the pirate cave aesthetic he had been going for. Still, it wasn’t something he was about to go and change, not when he wasn’t sure of how long Arachne was going to keep being distracted by their prisoners. He had a window of opportunity now, and with every moment he kept doubting what he was doing, with every moment he kept pondering over what could have been, that window was getting smaller and smaller.
No, if he wanted to get out, he had to act quickly.
He walked as quickly as he thought would still be natural, and for the first time did he berate himself for not at the very least making sure he knew what was normal behaviour for that other him. He was a decent actor, if he said so himself, but even for him it was difficult to act a role with little to no information. Scar was simply going to have to try, though. It was that or basically staying locked up. And he was sure as hell not staying locked up.
Making use of his knowledge of the layout of the volcano, he made his way towards one of the many little passages leading out from between the shacks and buildings, tucked away behind this corner or that. He was happy to see at least a few of them hadn’t been found and blocked off yet, making a mental note of it for later. Hopping down a few blocks from the pathway to the sand of the shore, Scar looked over his shoulder one last time, to make absolutely sure he was not being followed. Much as he hoped, there was no one in sight, not even a spider, and as silently as he could, he waded through the shallow water that covered the ground of the narrow passage.
Mere seconds later, he felt the sun on his face for the first time in what felt like forever. The salty sea wind tousled his hair, and the flaps of his coat danced around him in the breeze. The jagged stone and the hot sand hurt slightly under his bare feet, as he walked onwards, to the edge of the island, but right there and then, it was one of the best feelings he had ever felt. Still, Scar knew he didn’t have long to appreciate it, not at that moment. As such, he started hastily putting down a crafting table, followed by the planks he’d need to get a boat constructed. It didn’t take him long in the slightest, having made many a boat before, and before he knew it, the landscaper was pushing it into the ocean, hopping on and rowing away, towards the shore of Tortuga.
It wasn’t Tortuga that was his final destination, though. No, that laid way further south. The bunker was far, but he was sure he could make it.
And so, his journey started. First it was simply rowing towards the other side of the channel between his volcano and Cleo’s pirate town, although not entirely towards the harbour she had built. No, he aimed more for the eastern shore, which would mean he could cover the most distance by boat. From there on, he’d have to walk, but that was okay. If there was anything the Hermits had a lot of, it was infrastructure, and as such, Scar knew there simply had to be some path or another going from Tortuga towards the Shopping District, and it didn’t take him long in the slightest to find one.
It lead him past the ruined statues of giant villager heads that had appeared there at some point since they had started inhabiting the world, but the landscaper couldn’t say with certainty who had been responsible for it. All he knew was the fact that they most definitely were less old than they seemed.
Not too long later, the sandy path changed as he came across a red brick bridge, after which the statue of Hermity passed by on his left. For this, he did know who had built it. That had been Xisuma’s handywork, and the first sign that he was getting closer to the Shopping District. It had a shop in it, after all, and they had decided to only have shops in a proper Shopping District when they had gotten to the world. And indeed, from there, various buildings stood beside the road, some made entirely of dried kelp, others completely covered in glass, ever more built out of colourful concrete. A large rainbow filled the horizon, as did some of the larger shops. Sahara was there, part of the front now covered in cobwebs, but still accessible as though the spiders had had at least a little idea of what decency was.
Sadly, though, Scar knew that the quickest route to the bunker would be through Sahara. Sure, there were other routes, but after all the walking he had done so far to get there, he didn’t much feel like taking a detour through the Modern District in order to evade the possibility of spiders. Besides, the quicker he could get to the bunker, the less chance Arachne had to catch him before then. With a little bit of luck, they would only realise he was gone by the time he had already reached his goal, but if he was going to take that detour… Well.
Long story short, he didn’t take the detour. Instead, he moved up to the giant buildings that housed the Sahara complex, trying to do his best to ignore the cobwebs high above him. They seemed deserted enough, anyway. Scar jogged inside and beelined it to the water elevators that could bring him up to the higher levels. The main issue was the fact that the way up was locked behind a membership card that he didn’t have on him, and he was not about to search through an enderchest in the hopes that his token would be in there. Luckily, though, he had the next best thing.
A pickaxe that mined through the door relatively quickly, letting him pass without all too much trouble.
I’m sorry, Sahara boys, I’ll fix it later. If there is gonna be a later, at least.
Scar rode the elevator up, shaking off as much of the water as he could when he was once again on solid ground. One of these days someone was going to have to figure out a way not to get wet in the water elevators, but somehow, he had this idea that it wasn’t necessarily high on anyone’s priority list.
Still, once he got up, he didn’t wait long before moving out onto the courtyard, and from there he took the stairs down towards the sea again, and towards where the entrance of the bunker was.
It was tempting to go down the stairs two steps at a time, but something inside him told him to be careful. Another thing inside him told him to trip, fall, and die, with such a force that Scar staggered for a moment. It was that voice he knew as the other him, the one that followed his enemy’s every single command.
“No,” he growled back in response, getting his mask out of his inventory, and tying it in front of his face. The cool electric power that radiated from it washed over him in seconds, calming down his mind and pressing away everything that wasn’t either his own thoughts or the chittering voices of the Vex. It was a welcome difference, even though he felt himself slipping away into his role as a ConVex again. It was still better than what he had been before, though, and at the very least Scar knew how to deal with it. Especially now that it seemed like his own goals and those of the Vex were at least more or less aligned.
The landscaper carefully went down the stairs, then followed the shore through the small bit of forest that separated the sea from the cliffside the bunker was in. The partial walls of obsidian were still there, and Scar found himself smiling. It was wondrous, how many things could change while so many things stayed the same.
He walked up to the opening, a little concerned about the apparent lack of security there. Was it really intended that he could just walk in? Or had something happened?
Wait, are they even still here? Or did they move their base of operations after Ren and Iskall stopped by here?
The thought sent a chill down his spine, and he knew full well that if the Hermits weren’t there, he’d have no way to figure out where they had gone to. Not without a communicator. Scar swallowed heavily, pushing down the sinking feeling of dread. It was best not to draw conclusions immediately. After all, before he had been captured, the security on the entrance had been… lacking as well. His eyes scanned the various corners of the entrance, relieved to at the very least see the blinking red lights of a pair of cameras.
For a short moment, he stood there doubting what to do, then he faced one of the cameras and just waved to it, before moving on into the bunker.
“Hello? Hermits? Anyone home? It’s me, Scar! I’m back!” the landscaper called out, his voice echoing through the hallways. He set a few more steps inside, before pausing again. “Hello? Scar here, of the Good Times variety? Hello? Uh, I’m unarmed, if that helps? Weeell… Not totally unarmed, but I don’t have a sword or armour? Hello? Anyone there?”
It remained silent for a bit longer, then he was certain he heard footsteps. There was no one in sight, though, and Scar was unsure of what was going on.
“I can hear you, show yourself! I swear I’m not evil. Okay, okay, I know how that sounds, but hear me out, I escaped! I got out!” He was just about to set another step forwards but was stopped by the feeling of a blade against his throat. A hand wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him back against another body, and for the first time, he noticed the grey particles floating in the air around him.
Then Scar heard words, hissed into his ear.
“Not a single move if you want to live.”
Notes:
Wheeeeee, cliffhanger!
Chapter 112: Arc 3 - 36
Summary:
A familiar face, reunited at last.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Admittedly, Cub had not been paying a whole lot of attention to the feeds showing the area around the bunker. Perhaps it was simply because nothing had happened there for the past few days, perhaps he had simply gotten too comfortable in the bunker, but either way, the effect was the same. He had simply been focussing on his other tasks, on sending drones out to the farther reaches of the world, on providing aerial support for Joe and Biffa whenever they went out on a scouting trip towards this faraway cave or that, on tracking spider movement, and on keeping an eye on villages around the nearby ocean.
It was only when a familiar, high-pitched giggle sounded through his head that he blinked out of his focus, only to see a Vex mask looking back at him from one of the monitors in front of him. The person was waving instead of straight-up attacking, but still, Cub didn’t trust it. Not when there were pale green lines spreading like ink on scarred skin. Not when there were garments made of shifting green cobwebs. Still, the eyes looking at him… They glowed blue, not green. That had to count for something, right?
Cub looked around, half hoping there was someone else there that could help him make the decision on what to do. He knew there was no one, though. Doc had volunteered for taking the night shift, and Biffa and Joe were still out and about, checking out some jungle ruins in the west. As such, he was all alone for it. Sure, Stress and TFC were still in the bunker, but finding them and running it past them first was… Not optimal. He wasn’t sure how time-sensitive this whole situation was, and given that he didn’t know, he’d err on the side of caution and just assume it was a no-second-to-lose kind of situation.
All at once, he made a decision. He stood up from his chair, grabbing a potion from the chest they had added to the surveillance room. Invisibility. It should work, by all means, unless Scar – or Not Scar, or the Vex, or whoever it currently was that was holed up in Scar’s body – had some way to undo potion effects already on someone. Then Cub just started running towards the nearest ladder before climbing up it as fast as he could. No time to lose. For all he knew, Scar was already in the building and causing chaos.
Still, a little shrill voice in his head told him that it wasn’t like that. That little shrill voice told him it was much the opposite, although it couldn’t prove it. It was fine, though. Cub had a sword and a potion, and he’d find it out himself, prove whether or not they could trust the man that had just been waving at the cameras.
I hope it’s Scar. I just- I want it to really be him. But how could it be? It’s not like that spider would willingly let him go, now would they?
Once he arrived on the highest floor, Cub just started chugging the potion as he moved. He could hear Scar’s voice echoing through the hallways, asking whether anyone was there, and it definitely sounded like he was himself, stumbling over words and all. Still, Cub was tense. Hadn’t Ren also sounded like himself? Hadn’t Biffa?
And so, he found himself running past the landscaper until he was behind him. At the very least he found Scar had been speaking the truth about not having come armoured, although about being armed… Well. It was difficult to say. It wasn’t like he could look into someone else’s inventory. At least he didn’t see a weapon or a tool that could be used as one in Scar’s hands.
It gave him enough confidence to unsheathe his own sword. The sound was masked by Scar calling out again, some story about having escaped, and Cub was in doubt on what to do next. Still, he knew he had a responsibility to the Hermits to protect the bunker with surveillance, and so he would.
With a heavy heart he placed his blade on Scar’s exposed neck, pulling him against him before hissing words into his ear. Words he didn’t mean, words he knew he couldn’t make true. A threat.
Still, Scar froze under his arms, even tilting his head up a little further to provide Cub better access to his neck.
“Good. First question. Where did you get the mask?” Cub squinted, his words a little louder now. He swore he could hear Scar’s heartrate rise as he swallowed.
“From- From my ender chest. I put it there when we got into the world for the first time, for safekeeping.” A moment of silence. “Who are you? Are you a Hermit? If so-“
Cub didn’t quite want to press his blade deeper against Scar’s neck, but he also knew this could be a distraction. A distraction to send in the bumbling idiot while another person came sneaking in through another route. And so, he indeed moved his blade, eliciting a yelp from the landscaper.
“Quiet. Just answer my questions. Who helped you escape?”
This time, the answer came faster, accompanied by a little giggle in his own head.
“The Vex. The Vex did. I know I swore off the ConVex stuff, but- They never left. Ask Cub. He’ll know. He also still has the mask.”
Cub felt his hands begin to shake slightly. It was information that he had never given to anyone else, and to hear Scar say it… It made sense. He was starting to get quite sure that this was indeed one of his closest friends, and not whatever their enemies thought would pass for it.
“I see… And what do you think of Arachne?” The capitalist clenched his teeth together, unconsciously tensing up as he waited for an answer.
“Honestly? I dislike them. They’re a maniac! A right rapscallion! They’re tearing my volcano apart! All of the work I put in there, poof! Gone!” Scar huffed. “That, and they tortured me and the others. I don’t think I can forgive them for that, and I don’t think I want to.”
Finally, Cub let out a sigh of relief. This, this he trusted. He let the blade clatter to the ground, instead hugging what he could only conclude was his friend.
“I missed you, Scar. We all did,” he muttered, feeling the landscaper relax in his arms. “Especially Jellie. She’s been a bit… Out of it. We tried to distract her, so she wouldn’t know, but you know how she is.”
To that, he heard a little bit of a chuckle.
“Of course she is, bless her little soul. This world doesn’t deserve that cat, I’m telling you.” For a moment, it was silent. “I’d love to hug you back, and like, actually see who I’m hugging if that’s alright with you Cub? You are Cub, right? Otherwise, I might have to go and apologise to him.”
“For spilling my secrets to the first person that puts a sword to your throat? Yeah, yeah, you might have to,” the capitalist chuckled, letting go of Scar. “Sorry about that, by the way, but you know how it is.”
Scar turned around, blinking as he couldn’t see anyone. Then his eyes widened slightly.
“Where- Oh! Potions! Smart thinking there, Cub. It’s so good to be back, I’m telling ya. That lair… Not great. Definitely not great. It’s… Hmm. No. Oh! I should tell people where it actually is, right? They moved it a few days ago, from what I can remember. Has it been days? I’m not sure.”
The realisation that the invisibility potion was still active hit Cub at about the same time as it hit Scar, and Cub started frantically searching his inventory for either milk or something he could wrap around himself so the landscaper could at the very least deduce where he was. In the end, he just settled for his helmet, putting it on his head.
“Oookay, I’m just talking to a floating helmet, then? I can work with that!” Scar grinned before briefly hugging Cub. It didn’t entirely go smoothly thanks to not being able to see exactly where he was, but with a little bit of trial and error, he managed well enough.
“Oh, shut it. I don’t have milk with me, so this is just what you’re gonna have to deal with, for now, I’m afraid. In any case, you were saying something about your volcano, right? Are they in there?”
Scar tilted his head to the side, and it was a shame Cub couldn’t see his expression shift beneath the mask.
“Well, yes, but how did you- Don’t tell me you already knew.”
“You literally just told me that spider bastard was remodelling your volcano, Scar. And given that I don’t think they aspire to become an interior designer, I’m quite sure that has to mean they’re planning on staying there for a while.” Cub sighed, shaking his head a little. Scatter-brained, that was a word that could properly describe Scar at times.
“Oh! Right! Yes! That’s what they’re doing. They even brought Wels there! And Mumbo, and Xisuma, I’m pretty sure. How did they- Actually, you know what? I’ll tell you everything over a nice drink. Can we have that? A drink, and some Jellie pettings. And some different clothes. I’d love to… Not wear this, if you get what I mean.” Scar gestured towards his clothes, and Cub nodded.
“We can arrange that. I should probably also let the others know you’re back, and that you’re safe, although- I’m going to have to give you some milk to drink, to deal with some of that,” he said, pointing at the various lines of green crisscrossing over Scar’s skin.
“Some of what?” Scar asked in return, cocking his head to the side. “Are you pointing? Cause I can’t see you pointing if you are. You’re still invisible, Cub.” There was a bit of a grin on his face now, and Cub couldn’t help himself but facepalm.
“Right. Right… Stupid potions. Guess it’s going to have to be milk for the both of us, then.” He sighed once more, then chuckled. “I missed this. Just- before we go on, did- Did the Vex want anything in return for… I guess they freed you? How did they even do that?” To that, he could see Scar’s grin falter.
“I owe them, that’s all they said. So that’s nice and vaguely threatening. In any case, they… I guess they never really left? And it turns out they aren’t really a fan of others trying to take those they’ve already claimed. I guess they’d do the same for you, if it came to that.” Almost as by reflex, Scar’s hand moved up to his face, gently touching the mask. “This thing really made the difference, though. The moment I touched it… Poof. Evil gone. Or well, I say gone… more like contained. Then it broke free again, and I decided to just wear the mask cause that was the easiest way to keep touching it.”
“Huh… I see,” Cub murmured, stroking his beard. “Interesting, interesting. Good to know, too. I guess if worst comes to worst, we could always try to strike a deal with the Vex, but- Yeah, that might come back to bite us, and I’m not sure if the other Hermits would be very enthusiastic about it.”
“You raise a very valid point there.” The landscaper scratched the back of his head, looking kind of sheepishly in Cubs general direction. “Still, it’s a workable backup, I’d say. At the very least for us two, that much is clear. I mean, it’s not like we aren’t already bound to the Vex or anything, so we got that going for us, which is nice.”
To that, Cub laughed.
“Yep. Seems like we have at least something of a plan should it go wrong. In any case, how about that drink? After that, I’m going to have to call a meeting, to make absolutely sure that we know everything we can about what we’re headed into. You’ve actually just delivered us the last piece of the puzzle, really. We didn’t know before where that bastard was hiding, all we had was an inkling that they had left their lair in the End.” Cub sighed, shaking his head before starting to walk, then pausing again as he realised that Scar couldn’t see him. “Actually, scrap that. Before the proper drink, we got another place to go. Scar, we’re headed for the surveillance room, let me just…”
He grabbed Scar’s hand in his, before starting to move back to where he had been for the few hours prior. He took some more time on the way there, even enough to swing past the kitchen to claim a few bottles of milk, chugging one himself and handing the other to the landscaper, that luckily got the hint. The green lines in his skin didn’t exactly disappear, though. They lightened a little bit, some of the already lighter ones fading away completely, but the brunt of it was still visible. It made Cub frown, but he was careful to not show that to Scar. He had a feeling the landscaper already had enough to worry about at that moment, and he was not going to go ahead and add to it. At the very least it confirmed something about the situation; namely, that whatever Arachne had done to those they captured was not completely a potion effect, but also not completely not a potion effect. It was somewhere in between, or a mix of the two, which… complicated matters slightly. Not so much that it couldn’t be worked with, it just meant that there was no simple solution for the problem.
Still, he stored the knowledge away for later. There were other things he wanted to do first. Like reuniting a certain cat with her human.
Cub continued leading Scar to the surveillance room, now without holding his hand as he was visible again. They went down the ladder, carefully to not fall, and then through the hallways leading towards the actual room they needed. Outside of it, Cub halted.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you in, not until you’re fully cured, I hope you understand that,” he said, with some regret filtering through in his voice. Having Scar back in the surveillance team would make things easier, but at the same time, as long as there was so much as a chance that he could pass vital information on to their enemies, or sabotage them… Well. It was better to not let him have access to the one advantage the Hermits had.
“Mmhmm… I get it, no worries. But, if I can’t go in there, why did you take me here?” the landscaper asked, more than slightly confused.
“Well, there’s someone here that’s been wanting to see you. That’s all I can say,” the capitalist spoke with a wink. Then he opened the door, slipping in.
Jellie was still on a chair, sleeping, as she had been doing for quite some time in the days since Scar had been taken. She had managed to pick the best chair each time, which in her mind apparently meant ‘whichever chair people had been sitting on before’, which made the chair shuffle to get a proper desk chair to monitor from quite interesting, to say the least. Nobody wanted to disturb the napping cat, at the very least. Sure, there were those times where she decided a lap was a proper spot as well, but those times had become few and far between the longer Scar had been gone. Instead, she just kind of laid there in the room as long as there were people there, before padding up to the room Scar had occupied before that to sleep on his pillow for a while, only to then rinse and repeat it the day after.
It had slightly broken Cub’s heart every time he had seen her like that, and he had instinctively known that she simply knew that her human was gone. Now, though, now was the time to let her know the good news.
“Pspspsps, Jellie? I have a surprise for you…” he said, and indeed the cat perked up her ears, looking at him with slow blinks. Besides that, though, there was very little response.
“There’s someone here to see you. Someone that missed you very much. Come, come, let’s go greet him, shall we?” He came closer, petting her a few times before ruffling the fur on top of her head and picking her up. Jellie let out a bit of a disgruntled meow but allowed it to happen again the moment Cub continued petting.
“Oh, you are so predictable, little lady,” the capitalist chuckled, before moving back out of the room.
“Jellie! Oh, Jellie, I missed you so much! Come to papa!” Scar exclaimed, and when she heard his voice, the cat just about launched herself straight out of Cub’s arms and into Scar’s, meowing happily and rubbing her little face all over his chin, jaw, and neck. In response, he peppered kisses on the top of her head, scratching behind her ears and just hugging her in general.
Cub couldn’t help but smile as he watched, leaning back against the wall. After a bit, he took out his communicator to let Stress know what had happened, and not a long time after that it pinged a notification, this time with the request that everyone come back for a meeting as soon as possible. It didn’t take long for the first estimations of arrival to roll in, and Cub nodded as he saw them come by.
“Well, it seems like you got about an hour left to catch up on any missed cuddle time with Jellie, if I’m looking at this. After that, it’s back to business. Actually, make that an hour minus a bit, because you’ll probably want to put on some fresh clothes.”
“Hmm? Oh, yeah, probably. That sounds good. I can do an hour. I think she’ll allow me to go by then,” he muttered, and immediately Jellie let out a meow of disapproval, as though she knew what he was saying. “Or, you know, maybe not. I’ll just have to carry her around for a bit, but that’s okay as well.” Scar smiled widely as he ruffled the cat’s ears a little. “I can live with that.”
Notes:
What's that? A double upload? Most definitely! Did you really think I'd leave you with that cliffhanger for long?
Chapter 113: Arc 3 - 37
Summary:
The search for the winning strategy.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The old man had been spending quite some time in the kitchen, making a large platter of sandwiches to pass around during the meeting. Void knew the Hermits sometimes lacked a basic feeling of self-preservation, and someone had to make sure they actually ate things every now and then. And given that unlike the others, TFC didn’t have to come from who knows how far away, he decided that he was going to have to be that person. He had the time for it, in any case.
With the platter haphazardly stacked with bits of bread, meat, cheese, and other things, he made his way over to the meeting room, pressing down the door handle with his elbow.
“Hello, I hope I ain’t too late?” he asked, walking in and moving to the table, where he deposited the plate. Then he grabbed a sandwich and sat down in his seat, looking around. Quite a few chairs hadn’t been filled yet, some destined to remain empty, others… Well. False and Cleo hadn’t returned yet, but they had arguably had to come from the farthest away. Joe and Biffa were there already, after all, as were Keralis and Jevin. Team ZIT was there too, covered in soot but with content smiles on their faces, talking to Evil X, who was just as sooty as the others. It looked as though they had definitely bonded during whatever mission they had been on, and TFC simply raised an eyebrow before looking on. Doc was there, still yawning, his hair messy as though he had just rolled out of bed. Python and Iskall were there too, although Python was sitting a bit more in a corner, away from the rest, staring blankly into the distance. Stress was waving at him happily the moment she spotted him, though.
“No, no, not at all luv! There’s still a few people missin’, right? Did someone go to get Cub? It’s a bit strange he’s late, given that he was the one that called this. I mean, I have some ideas as to why he could be late, but he didn’t quite tell me that he would be late. And-“ A buzz interrupted her, and she immediately dug up her communicator, looking at the screen before typing in a few words and continuing. “False and Cleo just arrived in the Nether hub, so they’re gonna be here in a minute or so. In any case, I’m gonna send Cub another message, just to ask ‘im what ‘is idea with all of this is, when he’s gonna be here. That seems like the smart fing to do, I fink.” She smiled, switching her communicator back on and hastily typing in another message.
“Good, good! Well, youngsters, all of you, get a sandwich before we start! I bet none ‘o ya ate properly today, and I ain’t having none of that!” TFC laughed his gruff laugh as he motioned to the platter he had brought, and he didn’t have to say so twice before people started grabbing whatever bit of bread they felt like eating. Well, everyone except Evil X, really, who politely declined on grounds of not having the cannula with him at that point. It was an argument TFC could live with, but only because he knew that the boy had been coming up to the kitchen at least a few times each day to grab some food. Unlike the others, he seemed to at least know how to take care of himself.
The food also broke the tension in the room a little. It was a bit hard to stay serious when Doc grabbed a sandwich so tightly in his mechanical hand that almost all jelly inside it splattered out over the table and partially over Keralis, who looked back at the cyborg in wide-eyed indignation.
“Doc! Why would you do something like that to me? Look at my shirt! Look at my beautiful shirt, all stained now! How am I supposed to sit here and listen now, hmm?” he asked, clearly exaggerating the point just for the hell of it. Doc just grinned, making Keralis gasp and put a hand on his chest as though in shock. “Really? Really? Right in front of my sandwich? You’re a monster, Doc. Just a plain old monster. Look into my eyes, and nothing but my eyes. Why would you hurt a beautiful face like mine?”
In response, Doc simply leaned forward on the table, tearing a bite out of his sandwich, and chewing it thoroughly before swallowing.
“Because I can, that’s why. Also, because you randomly woke me up after just a few hours of sleep, and you didn’t even have the decency to bring coffee. Really. And you call me a monster?” He was grinning all the while, though, and despite his semi-angry tone it was clear that he was just poking a little bit of fun.
Keralis, however, went into it as though the cyborg had really meant what he had said, already grabbing a second sandwich with jelly, aiming it at Doc with both his hands wrapped firmly around it.
“Oh? Well, maybe you hadn’t earned that coffee yet! Have you thought about that, huh? And now… Now you will pay the price! Face my jelly-powered WRATH!” he exclaimed, standing up for the last word.
“Doc and Keralis, just so you two know, I ain’t cleaning up your mess if you go ahead with this nonsense. Let that be really clear.” TFC butted into the conversation, an eyebrow raised and an unamused look on his face. He was definitely not planning on spending all his time cleaning up after what was definitely a bunch of adults, especially not when they were having food fights instead of a proper meeting.
“Well, Keralis? What will it be? I’m waiting for that wrath of yours,” Doc teased, and for the shortest of moments, it seemed like Keralis was actually going to go ahead and squeeze jelly all over the cyborg. Then the man abruptly sat down again, shaking his head.
“Doc, I’ve decided to be the bigger man. Just apologise, and everything is fine.” He smiled widely.
“In what world are you the bigger man?” Doc asked. “I thought you were one of the smaller Hermits, weren’t you?” He only just about didn’t stick out his tongue as he teased, a wide smile on his face.
“Hey! You know I can get a little sensitive about my height, that was uncalled for! I’m not even as short as Bubbles is! Hmpf. I think you’ll have to say sorry for that too now, Doc,” Keralis giggled, and Doc just rolled his eyes.
TFC chuckled to himself as he observed the banter. He really enjoyed being around the Hermits, especially when they had their little meaningless squabbles over this or that. It was a lot better than the constant dread of not knowing what would come next, what danger was lurking around the corner, or behind the next closed door.
Speaking of closed doors, the door to the room opened up, and in came False and Cleo, the stench of sulphur thick around them. At the very least they didn’t look singed after their Nether adventures, which was a good thing.
“Heyhey! Did you guys start yet? Are we still on time?” False started, trying to scratch the back of her neck and realising a second later that it was still covered by the diamond plating of her armour.
“No, not yet! Cub isn’t here yet either, so just grab a sandwich and take a seat while I try to message him again. He’s just not answering me right now, and I don’t quite trust it, but I think it should be fine. There’s no way another person came into the bunker without him warning us before anything bad could have happened, right?” Stress smiled widely, although TFC saw right through it. The ice queen was worried, and rightfully so. With the way things were right there and then, it was difficult to be completely at ease when someone just stopped answering their messages. He watched as she furiously typed away, her fingers flying over the buttons of the small keyboard until she eventually just put the thing down, sinking into her chair.
“Alright, I’m calling it! If he doesn’t answer in like a minute or two, we’re mounting a search mission. We can’t be losing anyone else, not now.” She didn’t speak particularly loudly, but it was enough to let the others fall silent. “What? Was that- Oh, I said that out loud, didn’t I? Well, my point still stands, okay?” Stress nodded to herself, her eyes glued to the communicator, waiting for some message to pop up.
The tension was palpable in the air, until it was abruptly broken by the door opening once again. In the doorway stood Cub himself, a bit of a grin on his face.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Excuse my lateness, but I bring good news. Good times, even!” he smiled widely, stepping through and out of the way. “I present to you… Scar!”
He gestured out towards the door, and absolutely nothing happened. A few later, a small voice came around the corner, just a little bit louder than a whisper.
“Oh! Was that my cue?”
Cub’s smile widened a little bit further as he visibly tried to not facepalm at that.
“Yes, yes it was. Ahum. I present to you… Scar!”
Again, he gestured to the door, and indeed, the landscaper came stepping in, clad in a bit of a mishmash of clothes, definitely plucked together from a variety of wardrobes. There was a baseball cap that actually belonged to Keralis, combined with one of False’s jackets, a shirt with an @-symbol on it that could only be Joe’s, pants that looked like suit pants from Mumbo’s suit, and shoes that completely matched TFC’s own boots. A mask was strapped to the side of his face, and the old man recognised the face of the Vex. Laying across Scar’s shoulders was a very content Jellie, ears perked up and eyes squinted closed in what looked like the cat equivalent of a smile.
His face, though… His face was wrong. There were green lines all over it, like Iskall, Ren, and Biffa had had, and his eyes glowed blue. His cheeks looked a bit sunken in, as though he hadn’t properly eaten in a few days, and there were dark circles under his eyes as though he hadn’t really slept either. Still, he was smiling, a familiar, lopsided smile.
“Hello, hello. I uh… I’m back!” He waved at the others, and he spoke confidently.
That confidence seemed to falter a little when the room remained silent before him, with multiple Hermits shifting in their seats uncomfortably, letting calculating eyes scan every bit of him that they could find. TFC most definitely was one of them, sceptic about what he was seeing. Last he knew, Scar had been in the hands of that bastard spider, and last he knew, people that had come back from there with those lines on their face weren’t themselves, not in the slightest. He trusted the person that was pretending to be Scar for just about how far he could throw them, and he was worried about the fact that Cub had just allowed him in. Had something happened to him, too? Or was it still the head wound from earlier acting up?
“Cub, with all due respect, have you gone insane?” Cleo was the first to break the silence, her brow raised and her eyes quickly switching between him and Scar, as though she was trying to figure out what the hell was going on. “You see those lines, right? You should know what those mean, and still… you brought him here? Wearing our clothes, nonetheless!”
For a second, it looked like the capitalist was going to go against it, opening up his mouth to form a word. Then, Scar stuck out a hand, stopping him.
“You are right, Cleo. The lines, the mark- They’re still there. However! I’m currently very much me, the Scar you know and love. The Vex-“
“The Vex?! I thought you said you and Cub had cut ties with them! Why-“
Scar simply sighed a sad sigh, before looking straight into Cleo’s eyes.
“Look. Right now, being a ConVex is the lesser of two evils. Without the Vex, I wouldn’t be standing right here in front of you, with information on where Arachne keeps the others. Once we take that bastard down and rescue our friends, then I’ll justify what I did, but right now? Oh, right now I need you to trust me. I need you all to trust me, because I don’t know how much longer X and the others can hold on for. Do I really need to tell you how much trouble we’ll all be in once they give in?”
It seemed like Scar’s words at the very least made Cleo consider what she was saying, and something in the look in his eyes told TFC that he meant every word he spoke.
Still… Good to keep an eye on him.
“No, I- I guess you don’t. I think we all know it’s over, then,” Cleo sighed, and there were a few sad nods around the table. “So what do you propose, then? What do you know?”
“Well, I know where they are, for starters.”
It made Doc sit up a little bit straighter, a glint of something in his eyes.
“And where would that be, then? We’ve been searching all over the place for a few days, now, and… Well. Nothing. Like that bastard cloaked wherever they put their lair this time. Did you see how they did it?” There were equal parts curiosity and frustration in his tone, and Scar shifted around uncomfortably.
“Uh… Well… Er… You’re not gonna like the answer, my friend. They’re in my volcano.”
In response, Doc did the only reasonable thing in the scenario, which was nearly flipping the table he was sitting at.
“What?!” His eyes shifted between the landscaper and the various members of the Tech Team, looking for a reaction. Cub just shrugged, already having known it, while Biffa had his gaze set on infinity as though he was processing what he had just heard. Joe was actively facepalming, though.
“Of course, of course they would! There is poetry in their actions, poetry put in places I wasn’t aware they could.” Then he shook his head, raising a hand to the sky as though he was about to veer off into a long, dramatic monologue.
“Joseph Hills, if you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do, I’ll break your kneecaps before you finished your first line of monologue,” Cleo remarked dryly. The poet just pouted in response, looking down at the table before retracting his hand again.
“Fortune favours not me today, it seems. This monologue of mine, it shall remain only in my dreams…” Then he sighed, looking at the others.
“How, Scar. How are they in your volcano, and how did we not notice? Cub. Cub, you should have seen something on the camera’s, right? Did they hack into them? Is that what happened?” Doc was pulling up his communicator and was pressing away at some buttons, rapidly puling up various screens and graphs.
“Well, if I’m honest… I don’t think any of us thought they’d hide this close. Of course, I noticed some drones had gotten damaged, but I think I just assumed it were normal failures… Void, I should’ve checked that out better. You live and you learn, I guess.” Cub sighed, and TFC saw some sort of annoyance pass over his face. Right there and then, the old man decided that perhaps it was best to cut in and redirect the meeting back to a more productive path.
“As they always say, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Either way, there’s nothin’ we can change about this now, so let’s look at what’s next. We know where they are, so how do we take them down?”
“Right, luv, thanks! I was just about to do that. Scar, is there anything else we need to know? Anything you can tell us about the interior, alright?” Stress asked, standing up from her chair and gesturing him to come in further.
Scar didn’t hesitate and stepped forwards, his posture softening a bit as he let some tension out of his system.
“They didn’t change a whole lot, layout-wise, although they did close off some of the entrances. Not all of them, and there’s still a few places where you can swim in if you know the route, but a few of the main entrances can’t be used anymore. Besides that… There’s a throne there, under a hole in the ceiling that I was supposed to fill but didn’t, and there’s cells built into the centre of the volcano, which is where they’re keeping X, Mumbo, and Wels. Also, there’s a portal in there that leads to their original lair, I think? They might have changed it by now, but I’m not sure. Lastly, there’s quite some webs, including a big one they use as some kind of bed, I think. Some of the buildings in there are now used for storage, but I doubt that’s gonna be important for us.” The landscaper scratched the back of his head, before pointing towards the platter of sandwiches with a bit of a hungry look in his eyes. "May I?"
TFC laughed heartily at that, before nodding.
"Of course! That's what they're there for, boy. Just make sure you eat enough, alright?"
Scar didn't wait any longer before going in and grabbing a random sandwich, uncaring for what was on it, and proceeded to almost stuff the whole thing into his mouth in one go. It was as though he hadn't properly eaten in a few days, and perhaps that was indeed what had happened, but perhaps, just perhaps, it was just so he could have something of actual substance in his mouth. Something that was more than just gooey, half-rotten flesh.
Whichever it was, he ate happily while the others looked around at each other, trying to figure out what to do next.
"Well, I think the best way to go would be to perform some kind of pincer attack. We have enough people for that, and we have multiple entries into the volcano, if Scar is to be believed. We could even have people coming from three or four places at the same time, if we split up into some smaller groups," Tango spoke, stroking his chin as he thought. "I doubt they'd expect us to come flying in through the roof, nor to swim in from under the edges, which could give us the benefit of surprise. Especially if we were to send in a few groups via the more normal entrances. Perhaps those flying and swimming could even take care of freeing Mumbo and the others while the rest distracts Arachne and those under their control."
His words elicited a bit of a mutter of approval from around the table, and Stress nodded.
"That sounds like a good idea, that. Are there any other fings we might want to consider? Any other ways of doing this? Tango's plan sounds nice and all that, but it's best to make sure we go over all possibilities we have, right?" She smiled, before taking down some notes. The other Hermits silenced down again as they thought, and it wasn't long before Keralis put up his hand.
"I might have a bit of an idea? It's almost the same as Tango's, but with a little bit more of a guerrilla style war, you know? We could just try to see if we can swim or fly in, land some hits, and then get out again. Perhaps we could even see if we can get Grian and Ren out! I think that would help, at the very least. And then their beautiful faces won't be marked by those ugly green lines anymore before long, if we play our cards right." He smiled as he proposed his plan, his eyes wide with excitement. "Plus, diving in and out makes us less likely to get hit ourselves, especially if we can do it in an unpredictable pattern!”
False sat quietly as she listened to the others speak, rapping her fingers on the table as she was sunken deep in thought. She let the words wash over her as she looked down at the table, then switched to looking at the other Hermits one by one before speaking up herself.
"Well, perhaps we should also consider not splitting up, and instead entering through the same entrance. While it makes any attacks on us more focused, it also means it's a whole lot easier to back each other up when something happens, because we would be closer to each other. If, for example, the lair has a lot of spiders in there, it might be that if we get split up, we'd just get ambushed and completely cut off from the others. And that's something I'd like to avoid, if at all possible." For a moment, she paused, considering her options. "The downside of this strategy is the fact that we'd be less mobile. You don't want to break up a shield wall, after all, although it would be possible to split the wall in two if we go through slimmer parts where we'd have cover on all other sides. I doubt that would happen in the volcano, though, especially with spiders involved. Those bastards just keep crawling onto the walls and drop behind you if you're not careful." She sighed, then looked at Scar for a little bit of support there.
The landscaper, meanwhile, was struggling to chew all the bread he had stuffed into his mouth earlier, and almost choked on it as he realised he was supposed to be saying something. As such, he just held up a finger, gesturing them all to just wait a moment as he chewed and chewed and finally swallowed a few times.
"False has a very good point. The volcano is quite spacious on the inside, with bridges to walk over. It means there's very little cover from the sides and a lot of nooks and crannies for spiders to hide themselves in. There's not a whole lot that I can change about that at this point, though..." He smiled wryly, then shrugged.
"So far for that idea, then..." False sighed.
"I mean, a shield wall is not a bad strategy for whichever group would be coming in through a normal entrance, you know? Especially the first part of the mission, when they still have rock covering on all sides," Doc then butted in. "I just think that sending in everyone via the same route is not the best option we have, not when there are so many options open to us. I doubt they'd expect us to split up, not from what they've seen us do before. All other times we just went in together with everyone that was participating, so maybe, just maybe, they think that that's how we normally fight. And if they think that... Then the best way to fight would be to do the exact opposite of what we'd normally do." The cyborg grinned, while Impulse just listened to the words with a bit of a worried look on his face.
"The trouble with that is that if we fight in a way we don't normally do, we also take away some of our own efficiency, I think. After all, we'd be fighting in a way we aren't used to, in a place we haven't fought in before, and while we all learn quickly, I'm not sure if that would be fast enough."
It was silent around the table after that, save for the sounds of Scar starting to eat another sandwich and False's rapping on the table.
"But that's only if we consider forming a shield wall to be our normal way of fighting, and I'm pretty sure there's at least a few of us that don't usually do it like that. For example, Doc, you use a trident, right? And no shield? And Cleo, you use a crossbow or a bow. And I know that while team ZIT does use shields, they don't exactly form a wall either. So I'd assume we could just do what we do best, and divide the groups we make with each person's fighting style in mind? At least, I think that that would yield the best results." Biffa spoke up for the first time, filling the silence. "If we all use our strengths and combine them, they might be stronger than the sum of their parts, even if the result is something none of us has ever seen before. Don't forget, we're Hermits, we are used to working together in strange and exciting new ways, and I don't see how this would be any different than what we'd usually do to solve an issue."
His commentary yielded a few more people rapping on the table as some kind of agreement, while others were more vocal about it.
"Yeah! We're Hermits! We got this!" Zedaph called out, a big grin on his face. "Improvising is our thing! Let's do this!"
What 'this' was exactly, he didn't quite say, but everyone more or less knew what he meant by it. Still, given that the meeting was supposed to give some clarity instead of giving everyone some vague idea as to what they were going to do, Stress stood up, clearing her throat.
"So, just to summarise, we'll be going in through different entrances, then? Flying, swimming, and walking, right? Unless anyone has any other ideas...?" She was silent for a bit, looking around as the others just muttered noises of agreement. "Right. Next fing, then, would be to figure out who's going to do what. As Biffa said, it would be best to work with our strengths instead of trying to find a middle ground, so we're goin' to have to make sure we take that into account. Furthermore, I do like the idea of usin' guerrilla tactics, if only because it would mean a relatively large effect for the amount of danger we'd be puttin' ourselves in. The downside is that if we take too long on that, we'd be giving Arachne a chance to respond or perhaps to even get some defences up. "
"Not if we keep pestering them on all sides, so they simply don't have the time to do so," Cleo said, leaning back in their chair. "Sure, we might not be able to keep them busy at all times, but we don't have to. As long as we can manage to keep them and whichever minions they might have, spiders or otherwise, running around, we can just have people break down whatever they were trying to set up. Although it's going to be difficult if they start whipping out admin magic and other tricks."
It was silent for a bit, in which Stress considered their options.
"Well, it's simple then, ain't it? Just make sure they're kept very busy," TFC chuckled, already imagining what kinds of damage they could do with some well-timed attacks. It was a little bit like chess, this, and they just had to make sure they were putting enough pressure on all fronts that Arachne wouldn't know what hit them when the hit finally landed.
"That works, I guess. Well then. So. Guerrilla tactics, right, combined with a pincer attack? So we'd have what, four teams? Two on the ground, one in the air, one in the water, if I'm correct. Air would dive in and out, hitting them where it hurts and taking some of the pressure off of the ground groups. Ground groups would take the brunt of the attacks we get against us, and are mostly there to distract the enemy forces, as well as to secure some safe spots so we have space to manoeuvre and regroup. Water group would be the stealthiest of all of them, trying to get in, free the prisoners, and get out. Would that be okay by people?" Doc asked, leaning forward, already tapping away at his communicator and a separate tablet to run some data for analysis. "It's also probably best if we can have all the people we can, because once this attack starts, we won't be able to also defend this place, and I'd personally rather have us all in the same place at that point. Then we can at the very least cover for those that can't or don't want to fight, and they can form a bit of backline support. You know, tossing in splash potions of healing when necessary, keeping track of what's going on, that kind of thing. Once the battle starts, I predict it will be a bit of chaos, and it would be best to have some dedicated people that can relay orders between the groups as well as to keep whoever is in command then in contact with group leaders."
Doc smiled as he spoke, clearly in his element with all the tactics involved. He was longing for a fight, that much was clear, and he was going to make damn sure that they would be going into it with the best strategy they possibly could. No one protested it, knowing fully well that the cyborg had their best interests at heart, and Stress just nodded along as she made notes.
"I agree on all points Doc just raised, and I don't fink anyone has issues with it, either?" She was silent for a bit, looking around again to see if anyone was going to bring up a problem before she continued. "Well then! If that's the case, I fink the next steps are to figure out who goes in what group, to appoint a group leader for each group and an overall commander for the entire fing, and to gear up and go. Let's get this mission underway, luvs."
Notes:
and now that everyone's where they should be, get ready for the endgame...
this chapter was a bitch and a half to write because honestly, screw dialogue. in any case, the document I'm writing this in is over 600 pages now and word is beginning to struggle to keep counting the words :')
Chapter 114: Arc 3 - 38
Summary:
Salt in the wounds. A lesson in creative crafting.
Notes:
TW for torture, gore, blood, and flaying that last through the entire chapter.
Sorry in advance, Mumbo...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
He barely even batted an eyelid as the man before him cried out in pain. It had just become his reality, and it was a reality his master had wanted. As such, Sally didn't even pause before scooping a second bucket of salty seawater over the mole, who screamed out again as the salt went into his many wounds. Honestly, if anyone asked Sally, the man needed to stop being so pathetic, and be grateful that he got cleaned up a little. It was definitely needed after a few days of on and off torture, but no one had said that any help Sally would be providing would be anything less than that. No, on the contrary.
His orders had been very clear. The mole was to be kept in pain and vocal about it for as long as possible. The goal wasn't primarily to convince him to take the mark, his pain was merely means to an end. An end Sally fully supported, because if his master would be in complete control... Well. That could only mean good things for him too, now couldn't it?
"Please... Please, Grian, just... Listen to me. This- This isn't you, please, please stop this, please let me be, please..." The mole took a break from screaming to try the pleading strategy again. It hadn't worked before, so the little spider was unsure why he was trying it again, but it seemed like he was trying to appeal to that other him again. That him that he had pushed away. That him that he had all but killed. That him that would not be of any help, not if he had any say in it.
And Sally did have a say in it.
As such, he just grabbed the rag he had brought in with him, a roughly spun bit of fabric, and started scrubbing the various stains of dried blood off of the mole. Of course, he didn't exactly try to be careful around the wounds where skin had been rent from flesh, nor did the pleas and yelps and whimpers from the other man mean anything to him. He just continued on, ever diligently following his master's orders. It was just him, scrubbing on as the water dripping down turned red from old blood and new blood alike.
Another bucket of seawater went over the man, washing more blood away and stinging in the open wounds, but Sally didn't care. All he cared about was making sure his canvas was clear for their next series of activities.
In his mind, he was already thinking about what he would be doing, about how he could make sure the mole screamed. Pulling out nails? Applying more cuts? Maybe causing some burns... Quite frankly, there were plenty of options. One thing he definitely wanted to look into, though, was making sure whatever tool he would be using would be dipped in poison. It had seemed like the poison had managed to mostly flush out of the mole's system, and that quite simply wouldn't do. After all, the poison was a relatively easy way to make sure the mole would be hurting even in those moments where Sally couldn't be present, such as when the little spider was sleeping or eating or following other orders. It would be a shame to let that time go to waste.
Sally was almost humming to himself as he dabbed away the last few bits of dried blood, before tossing his rag into his bucket and going to grab whatever he was going to need next. A knife, definitely. Maybe a hammer, to break some bones. Some shards of glass could be fun, too, and he had half a mind to see if he could get some of the spiders to join him for some extra sensation. He was sure the mole would enjoy it if there were quite some of the creatures crawling over him, tasting his blood, biting him, spinning their webs over his body. Especially when combined with just some good old flaying. Just a tiny bit, of course, he wasn't trying to kill the man. Just enough for him to really feel it. Enough for him to beg, to scream, to plead for it to stop.
Sally wouldn't, though. It was simply too much fun.
With a grin on his face, he started gathering his things, taking the moment to look around a little. The other little spider was still doing his thing too, it seemed, judging by the sounds coming from the other cell, and his master... His master was just sitting in their web, their eyes trained on the person in the last cell. That Worldshaper that was still screaming and making noise every now and then, almost like clockwork. That Worldshaper that was going to break sooner rather than later. Sally had the feeling his master was enjoying their view, but there was something in their eyes that he couldn't quite place. Almost a hesitation. No, not hesitation. Fear?
No, fear would be absurd. Why would my master fear anyone? They are much stronger, much more developed, much better than anyone else. It must simply be a trick of my mind.
Before he could start thinking anything more heretical, he picked up a knife, twirling it around in his hands a few times. It was a nice blade, all green and black and grey, with lines in it that made it seem like the metal had shattered and had been put together again with metal of a different colour. It was rather ornate, too, and it was almost a shame that Sally was going to be using such a beautiful knife to cut into someone so pathetic and insignificant as the mole. Oh, how different things could have been if that little fly had just been able to follow orders, if he had just accepted his master's mark... But he hadn't, and now he was paying the price.
Sally almost absentmindedly moved over to the small building where the poison was kept, and almost immediately beelined over to the barrel he needed. Without much difficulty he undid the lid, then dipped in the blade all the way to the cross guard, careful not to get any of it on his own hands. He knew that that was a bad idea, a very bad idea. After all, Sally would like to not accidentally poison himself if he touched his mouth or nose, especially knowing how potent the stuff was. Still, getting poisoned would be nothing when compared to the wrath of his master.
And so, he put the lid back on the barrel before moving over to the cell again, twirling the blade around as he went. He was going to have some fun. He was definitely going to have fun with this, judging by the tired but afraid expression on the mole's face. Sally grinned widely as he came closer, letting his hand roam over the other man's bare torso, cruelly pressing into the wounds whenever he came across one.
"Where shall I stab you next, hmm? Somewhere in your arm?" He let the sharp edge of the blade dance over the mole's biceps, before continuing on. "Your shoulder, perhaps? Or your stomach? A leg? Or just in your back?" As he spoke, his knife followed his words, the pressure on it light enough to not actually cut through any skin, but strong enough that the mole desperately tried to move away from it, chain clinking as he struggled.
"Nowhere, please, nowhere, you don't need to stab me, please, Grian, don't! Please!” the mole begged, and yet, the only thing Sally could do was chuckle, ducking behind the other man and letting his knife trace patterns over his back.
"I do, though. I do, because you don't listen. This could have been quick, you know? This could be over in a jiffy, and all you have to do is to make that Worldshaper give in. That's all. Then the pain will stop." Whether his words were true or not, the little spider didn't know, but ultimately, he didn't care. No promise he made would be one he would keep if his master commanded him otherwise, and that was not something that bothered him a whole lot.
"You- You know I can't, Grian. I can't. Just... Just stab me, then. I can't." It felt like the mole deflated under his very hands as he spoke, and Sally couldn't be bothered to hide a sigh of contempt.
"So boring. I'll make you reconsider."
With that, he went to work, all at once applying pressure to his knife and cutting into the flesh below it. Blood started dripping out of the wounds he created, patterns of red on pale skin. Sally carved line after line after line, careful to not go deep enough to actually do serious harm, but not shallow enough to be painless either. Still, the process was... frustrating. The mole let out a surprised yelp at the first cut, that much was true, but from there on... He was trying to hold in screams, the little spider just knew it, and it almost pushed him hard enough that he wanted to cut deeper. He didn't, though. Cutting deeper would have... unfortunate side effects, such as the mole dying, and Sally didn't particularly feel like having to clean up the mess that that would cause.
As such, he just continued on cutting his shallow pattern, the spokes and winding spiral of a cobweb slowly taking shape on the back. He made sure to cut each line twice, almost as though he was outlining the pattern, and to work from the inside out, so he could make sure that he didn't accidentally cut in places he didn't want to cut.
Over time, the mole's resistance crumbled, partially thanks to the poison spreading into his system. The edges of the wounds blackened where the knife had touched them, and veins and arteries became more clearly visible under his skin as they darkened up as well. It didn't even take long before the mole started making more noises again, yelps and whimpers and pleads and even the occasional scream whenever Sally would cut in the skin over his spine, and it made the little spider glow with pride. This was what his master had wanted from him, and this was what he would give them.
Quite some time and cutting later, the outline of the shape was done, and Sally went and started peeling the outline of the cobweb away from the mole's skin, bit by bit, careful to keep it in one piece. This most definitely made the mole cry out, and the sound was like music to his ears. He just peeled on and on and on, bit by bit, helping to separate the skin from muscle and bone with his knife wherever needed. That had as a nice side effect that the entire wound was turning black, as though it was a burn mark instead of simply flayed skin.
Whether his master would appreciate that was a second question, but he had no reason to think they would hate it or dislike it, and so, Sally just kept on going and going and going, peeling slowly but surely and milking every scream he could out of the mole. It was like music to his ears as he worked, and he even almost went to hum along with the rhythm he was causing as though it was all some large harmony.
At long last, though, even his peeling had to end, although the blood continued on dripping down. He didn't mind that in the slightest, it only gave him another chance to quite literally rub some salt into the wounds. The mole, however, had gone silent, his head hanging limply forwards, and his body having gone still aside from some very shallow breaths. There was the very occasional whimper, but nothing more than that, and as Sally walked around him, the cobweb of skin in his hands, he found that somewhere during the last section, the man had fallen unconscious. It was a shame, it really was, but most of all, it was a problem. After all, an unconscious man couldn’t scream or cry or wail, and the little spider needed him to make some noise.
With an annoyed sigh, he lightly slapped the mole on his cheek, then a little harder when there was no response.
“Wake up. We aren’t done here,” Sally hissed, slapping a few more times, leaving bright red marks as he pulled away his hand.
Finally, after a few minutes of slapping, he could see the mole slowly blinking open his eyes, tears beading on his lower lashes.
“W-why… G-g-grian…” he muttered, his eyes rapidly focussing and defocussing as he stared at the little spider and into the distance behind him. Sally felt his eyelid twitch at hearing that name again. How difficult was it to get the hint that that wasn’t him?
“That is not my name, fly. You really aren’t able to listen, are you?” He sighed, remembering the way his master had taught him to listen, back before he had finally done the right thing and accepted their mark. “I guess I’ll just have to teach you…”
And with a grin on his face, he went back to work, uncaring for the pleading, uncaring for the crying, uncaring for the screaming. He’d make sure the mole learnt how to listen.
[END OF ARC 3]
Notes:
From here on, it's on towards the end. According to my outline, I still have 17 chapters to go, but I know myself. It might be that I'm gonna add more chapters if I think it's needed, or that some of them get smushed together, so don't pin me down on those 17. We'll all just have to see where this monster of a fic is gonna end up at.
In any case, I'd like to once again say 'Sorry Mumbo'
Chapter 115: Arc 4 - 1
Summary:
Full force ahead, into the storm
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It took a while before the Hermits had figured out how many groups they needed, and who would be doing what, but when they finally had, it didn't take long before they were all geared up. Those coming in through the hole in the ceiling had their elytra's, boots that would negate as much fall damage as possible. Cub and Joe had bows with them, and quivers full of arrows, while Keralis and Jevin both had a sword and a shield, ready to go in and smack the life out of Arachne.
Then there was the water team. Scar would be taking Cleo and Iskall with him, and all of them had helmets that would keep air trapped with them a little longer, and boots that could give them a bit of a boost while underwater. They were going to have to be the sneakiest and the fastest, and as such, they had potions with them that could help with that. Potions of speed, potions of invisibility, and most of all, potions of healing, for when they got to their friends. All of them had a pickaxe with them, and they all had a sword, but no shield. It would only get in the way, and no one could use that.
Then there were the two ground teams. Team ZITX formed the first of them, confident in their dance of swords after having fought together in the mountains. Their kit hadn't really changed, although Zed had made sure to get each of them a shield, glistering with the enchantment glint that would make them close to unbreakable. On the other side, there were Doc, Biffa, and False, all decked out in their favourite fighting gear. Together, they were the best fighters the group had to offer, and they felt like they would be able to hold off whatever Arachne would be throwing at them for quite some time.
Lastly, there was the support team. They would be on the ground, behind their lines. Stress would be there to keep in contact with the other teams, and to administer healing potions and other quick fixes where necessary, while TFC and Python would be her extra sets of eyes. Python had originally not wanted to come, but when they had put him in the best suit of armour they could, with the promise that he would be protected, and that he could get out if everything became too much, he had agreed to follow along.
Tension was high in the air as they all got ready to leave, knowing it was then or never. After all, if this mission failed, they simply knew there wouldn't be a next one. There was simply no time to regain the necessary resources, then, and there was no saying if they could recuperate from whoever they would lose. It made the groups silent, a lot more silent than they would usually be. Gone was the light-hearted banter, and any attempt at it just sputtered out after a few seconds. Everyone knew how serious the situation was, everyone knew there was a high risk of dying, and yet none of them wanted to speak about it. They couldn't, because what was there to say that they didn’t all know already?
In the end, it was Stress that broke the silence, raising up her hand to get everyone's attention.
"Alright! We need to make sure there is absolutely no way for them to know we're there until we barge in. That means we won't be flying there, as you all know, right? Who has the boats?" she asked, looking around, until about half the people there raised their hands. "Good. Make sure that everyone is on a boat before we leave the shore. Aerial team, you guys are okay to fly from Cleo's ship or Tortuga, whichever you feel is best, okay? Fly high and circle above the volcano until Cub gets my signal. Water team, I trust all of you to have the extra gear wiv you to get Xisuma, Mumbo, and Wels out there safely? Do remember where you leave the boats, or if possible, take them with you so you can get out from anywhere and quickly get to shore. If things get nasty... It’s a ‘orrible fing to say, but… Get out who you can, but priority is on X. Ground teams, support team... You know what to do." She glanced around once more, making eye contact with every single one of the Hermits. "Just know that whatever happens today, I'm proud of you luvs. You all really came together to get this done, and I'm absolutely blown away by what we've managed so far." Stress smiled as she looked around, proud to be in charge of the group. She just hoped everything would turn out fine, but then again, she had known the Hermits longer than just that moment. She knew they were capable of literally moving mountains when the circumstances called for it, and if this was not one of those moments... Well. Very few moments would qualify.
It seemed like the others mostly shared her sentiments, making eye contact with those of their teams and those in others, smiling gently or making a strong face or putting up their thumbs or even going so far as cheering them on a little bit. It was enough to break the tension, enough to finally let them chatter amongst themselves again, and the ice queen nodded.
"Well, wiv everything taken care of, I think we should get going, then. We still have quite a bit of walking to do before we hit the coast, after all."
"Let's go!" Zed exclaimed, before clasping a hand before his mouth. "Too loud?" he then whispered, and Tango put his hands over his ears, his face twisted in played pain.
"Definitely. Don't think my ears will ever be the same again after that," he complained, keeping up the charade for exactly three seconds before dropping it and laughing. "Maybe keep it down a little, but mostly, I think you're good. Just keep in mind that the whole island doesn't need to know what we're planning."
"Right... Thanks, Tango," Zedaph continued, this time on a normal conversational tone. "My point still stands, though, let's go! That spider isn't going to defeat itself!"
With some chuckles all around, the group kicked into motion, starting the long walk down to Tortuga. The aerial team had one or two of them fly up every so often, to keep an eye on the surroundings, while the others simply walked double file, their eyes trained on the various bushes and shady spots around the path. None of them felt like getting jumped, not right before their mission, and as such, they were perhaps more careful than was necessary. Still, it did help. The one time a spider came close to the party, it was taken care of quickly and silently, even before it had noticed them, and besides that, they didn't encounter any trouble at all.
It was peaceful, like a calm before the storm. The question was simply how heavy the storm was going to be. Just an autumn storm? A tornado? A hurricane? Even stronger than that? Only time would tell, and while they had started their march with renewed hope and courage, the longer they walked, the quieter the group became. Gone was the chit-chat, gone were the casual jokes, gone was the laughter. Conversations turned mostly functional, going over strategies one last time, pointing out little bits about the volcano that could be used to their advantage, reminding each other about various ways to take down a spider - or one of their friends-turned-enemies. It was nerve-wracking, that walk, but there was little that could be done to make the time pass quicker.
One side-effect of talking about strategies within the various teams was that the longer the group walked, the less they were actually walking in double file. Instead, their formation changed more to a series of blobs moving in a line, like pearls on a necklace. It still worked, though. Those more on the outside still paid attention to what was going on around them, and it was not like any of them would be getting lost at that point. Not on their island, not in their home. Especially not with a path and others before them leading the way, and with the shape of the volcano looming in the distance.
Slowly but surely, clouds started blowing in from the east, blotting out the sun and turning everything to a dull grey. Those clouds further away seemed to darken as well, as though the world knew what was coming, and knew when to adapt. The first sounds of thunder rumbling were audible in the distance, and the question was not if it was going to rain, but when. It was not something that would majorly influence their mission, but still, Stress made sure to move back down their little line towards the aerial team, just to point out that the weather was changing.
"Do keep an eye on the clouds, luvs. Seems like a storm is rolling in, and we don't want anyone to get blown away by it, alright?" she spoke, a little bit of worry showing through in her tone. Keralis noticed it, and was quick to pat her on the shoulder a few times.
"You don't need to worry, Stress! We know what we're doing, trust me on this, alright? We won't be blown away, the only thing that will be blown away is that bastard spider, you know? Blown away by our amazing skills and acrobatics in the air! When this is all over, we should start a circus so we can show off even more, hmm? What do you think, Stress? Would you come to visit this beautiful face in the circus, if I would go there?" He smiled widely as he spoke, not a hint of fear in his voice.
"Well, maybe! It all depends on your performance today, right, so make sure it's a good one, alright luv?" She briefly raised the corners of her mouth in a smile, brief enough to convince Keralis that she was doing just fine and was not stressed or scared at all.
"Good! I'll do some extra stunts, then, just for you! Got to keep the audience happy, after all!" he winked dramatically as he spoke, and Stress swore she could feel her heart drop a little.
"No, no, please, no extra stunts! Just- I need you to work safely, alright? Effects over looks, luv, effects over looks." The ice queen gestured wildly for him to stop as she spoke, and right there and then, she couldn't stop the fear from showing through.
"No worries, no worries. Hey, it was just a joke, Stress. Just a little joke. Look into my eyes, and nothing but my eyes, okay, so you can see how much I'm not joking when I say this. I'll be super careful up there. I don't want to worry all of you, you know? So please, don't worry! I know what I'm doing." He looked at her long enough to make eye contact, and he smiled softly at her, which put her at the very least a little bit at ease.
"Alright then, alright then. Just- keep an eye on the weather." With those words, she nodded to him and the others of the aerial team, before moving back up their marching order again and taking the lead, falling in a silent rhythm next to Doc.
Over the last few days, he had really helped her figure out the whole leader thing, and she was glad that he had been there for her whenever she had questions about strategy or ways to better communicate what she wanted or needed to be done to the others. When all of this trouble was over, she was going to make something nice for him, like a cosy, knitted hat or perhaps a lab coat that wasn't entirely in tatters. or perhaps she'd just get him some flowers every so often, to make his base a little more homely - if he even had a base. She wasn't quite sure where he had been living before everything had started happening, but when it was over... She was going to make sure he had a proper home, as thanks. For now, though, that was nothing more but an idle thought. A hope for when everything was resolved.
They walked on and on and on, feeling the path under their feet change from dirt to sand slowly as the landmarks passed by. The various shops in the shopping district, the statue of Hermity, the ruins on the beaches... And then there was Tortuga, right in front of them, the volcano looming over the narrow strait before them. The clouds had gone darker and darker the closer they came, mingling with the smoke rising up from the crater until it wasn't clear what was what. The thing that was clear, though, was the rain that was starting to come down. First a small droplet here and there, as they were putting the boats in the water. Then some more drops, still small, but at a steady pace by the time the aerial team unfurled their elytra’s and took to the skies. Then larger drops as the rest of them got into the boats, the wind becoming stronger and stronger as the rumble of thunder approached. The drops started falling faster and faster as the Hermits rowed towards the volcanic islands, the waves becoming higher as well while the first flash of lightning turned the sky white for the briefest of moments.
Stress could barely see the water team look at each other with worry in their eyes, but she saw it anyway, and shot them a message to reassure them that everything would be alright.
The rain became stronger and stronger, soaking them all despite the layers of armour protecting them, and the wind picked up more and more until it felt like they were navigating through a proper storm. The sea was wilder, now, waves crested with white, and where at first the steering of the boats had been easy, right there and then, it took everything Stress had to stay on course, to not have a wave roll over them and sink them. The other boats had just about as much trouble, but they were simply too far away from Tortuga to turn back now to wait it out. It was best to just keep on going, on and on until they would reach the volcano.
High above them, the aerial team circled around like a group of gulls, making figure eights around the volcano and above the boats, to keep an eye on everything. At least, that was their purpose, but the ice queen honestly doubted how much they'd be able to see from up there, with the rain that was coming down in sheets.
There was no time to ask, though. No time to take out her communicator and type a message. Not when she needed both her hands on the rudder to fight against the current, to keep them on track.
She squinted her eyes to keep at least some of the water out, and she looked forward, where the grey of the volcano loomed. They were almost there, almost. Just a little bit further. Just a little bit more.
It came as a nice surprise when the boat hit the sandy shore earlier than Stress expected, sending a shock through the wood, and almost making her tumble over. Still, she just about managed to keep her balance, and was quick to hop out, onto the land. The boats of the others of the ground and support teams followed not long after, with everyone quickly picking up their vessels once they got out. As they did so, Stress pulled up a map of the volcano on her communicator, trying to figure out where they were in comparison to the entrances Scar had marked.
Judging by the shape of the landmass they were on, and the location of the trees, they had drifted off-course ever so slightly, but not so much that everything was going to be much harder now. Certainly, the entrance they were originally planning on using was further away now, but on the flipside, there was another one that was closer now. A slight deviation from their plans, but an acceptable one at that, their exact point of entry didn’t matter all too much in the grand scheme of things. As such, the ice queen didn’t even think about trying to discuss it with others, she just went and sent a message to the chat of group leaders.
<Stressmonster101> We are about to enter through entrance F. Water team, aerial team, in position?
<cubfan135> Air team, ready to rock and roll!
<cubfan135> and to get somewhere dry lol
<ZombieCleo> We’re close enough to start. Stress, you’re good to go.
<Stressmonster101> alright <3 see you all on the flipside, luvs
With a sigh, she clicked her communicator into the slot in her gauntlet, before looking around at the group of Hermits huddled together on the beach. They were looking at her for direction, save for Doc and Impulse, who were just putting their communicators in an easy to access place too.
Stress took a deep breath, before unsheathing her sword and raising it up in the air, swinging it in a circle a few times until everyone was looking at her, before pointing towards the entrance they would be taking. Then she started moving, the others quickly following and taking up the formations they had discussed earlier. Doc and his team came jogging up to take point, while team ZITX took positions around the support team.
They came closer and closer to the entrance, and Stress felt her heart beating in her throat, adrenalin coursing through her veins.
It was time for them to show that spider who was boss.
Notes:
Welcome to the endgame, everyone
Chapter 116: Arc 4 - 2
Summary:
Inspiration from above, the siege begins.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The world felt particularly poetic right there and then, with the storm blowing wildly around him. Almost as though it was a precursor to the metaphorical storm that was mere minutes, no, seconds away. The rain rendered them almost blind to what was happening on the ground, a parallel to how blind they had been for what had been happening right under their very noses. As for the thunder and lightning… What else could that be, except for doom and destruction coming their way?
The poet adjusted his course slightly, noticing he had drifted off slightly as he was thinking about the state of things. There was simply no time for that kind of thing, not a moment where he could let his mind wander. Instead, he needed to make sure he stuck close to Cub, Jevin, and Keralis as they circled round and round on the thermals the volcano caused. There would be little to no warning before they would be going in, and Joe knew that once they did, he had a very specific task to do. Sure, he was armed with bow and arrow, but that was not his main function within the aerial team. No, his was a task connected to a unique skill he possessed, one he honed with every word he spoke, with every rhyme he made. Much like Stress had her ice, and Tango had his fire, Joe had his poetry, and he was very much intending to use it. After all, a bard need not play an instrument to access his magic, simply performing art was enough, and what better art to help those in need than poetry?
Poetry could redefine a world, after all, gifting courage, love, compassion, and so many more feelings to those that listened to the prose. And Joe... Well. Joe had become very good at making up poems on the spot, even very complex ones, if the situation called for it.
Another thing that could redefine a world was a change of course, which was exactly what happened right then. Cub broke away from the monotonous circles high in the air, instead turning away from the volcano to circle back to the hole in the roof before pulling his elytra close to himself and entering freefall. The others of the aerial team followed suit, making the turn and then simply dropping from the sky, the most noiseless way they knew to speed up. Air flowed quickly past them, almost humming in their ears, and the ground came closer and closer, as did the hole in the rocky ceiling. Down below it, Joe could see a floor of black and green, with inlaid white cobwebs, and an unfinished structure standing on top of it. It most definitely felt evil enough, and while he very much disliked their enemy, he could appreciate the fact that they didn't hide their evil behind a façade of normalcy, instead embracing the aesthetic. Certainly, it was perhaps a little bit over the top, but such things were hard to balance.
Either way, like the others before him, he pulled up almost immediately when he came through the roof, gliding towards the centre and starting to circle over there. It was warmer, there, much warmer, and the hot air provided enough lift that they did not need to worry about using rockets to stay afloat. The fact that they were now inside also provided Joe an opportunity to properly look around. Aesthetic-wise, the volcano had been changed such that it closely matched Arachne's original lair, with blacks and greens taking over the majority of the colour palette, and some spider or another had apparently been busy, because a great number of cobwebs already covered part of the walls and buildings that were still there. Down on the ground, he could actually see Arachne standing and making some kind of chuckling noise, and when he looked further, Joe could also see Grian and Ren moving around, headed in the direction he knew Stress would be coming from. Actually, speaking of which... He could hear the sound of clinking armour, of metal scraping against rock, of fast, running footsteps coming in.
It was just about to start, then. Joe's priorities changed right there and then, and instead of scouting what was going on below, he moved his gaze up a little bit. He knew he couldn't properly recite his poetry if he also needed to pay attention to where he was flying, and he knew he needed a place that was relatively safe to land at. There weren't even all too many constraints that that landing spot needed to adhere to. First of all, it needed to be at the very least structurally alright. It didn't need to be perfect, as long as he could touch down and not immediately sink through whatever flooring he'd be on, that was enough. Second of all, it would optimally be in a location close to the ground teams, close enough that they could hear him clearly. Whether he'd have to shout or not didn't really matter, so 'close' had quite a stretchable definition in this case. Lastly, it needed to be a defendable position in the worst case, and safe from spiders in the best case. Again, the definitions were stretchable, given that it only needed to be safe long enough for him to utter a full poem, and as such, he only needed to be in the location for a minute, perhaps a minute and a half at maximum depending on how fancy he felt. That being said, fanciness was the least of Joe's concerns. Certainly, he was not going to just shout words, they needed to have the proper intonation and stress, but he was not going to recite some long-form epos. He wanted to, sure, but he knew it would have to wait for another time, for when the situation wasn't quite so dire. A sonnet would have to do.
His eyes fell on a building with a little balcony that jutted out from the side of the volcano. There were enough overhangs that he dared say it was safe, and the flooring was a dark wood, stained by water nor soot. It looked sturdy enough, which meant it already checked two of his three boxes. As for the last one... It was a little distance away from the ground teams, about halfway through between them and Arachne, which put all of them firmly within his range. He doubted he'd be finding a better spot, and he made a decision for himself.
He didn't wait for the rest of the aerial team to follow and set in another dive down, following the roof of the volcano down to the spot he had picked. Despite his glistening armour, it seemed like he remained unseen, whatever noise his elytra made covered by the sounds of the volcano, the rolling waves, the storm outside, and the occasional scream or cry coming from somewhere nearby. Joe flew closer and closer, until he made an abrupt turn in order to lose speed and land, his feet hitting the wood of the balcony with an audible thud.
There was no moment to lose from that point forth, and he quickly scanned around to make eye contact with some members of the ground teams before turning towards Arachne and starting off his poetry.
"As I stand here so high above the ground
You, Spider Arachne, are causing fear.
You think like this you surely will be crowned
And that your victory is drawing near.
How wrong you are, not knowing when to halt,
This world ain’t yours and such will never be
While there is still a Hermit worth their salt
That fights at every turn to disagree!" he half-shouted, exaggerating the stressed syllables such that the iambic pentameter shone through clearly. The spider noticed him quickly, calling this order or that, but the poet knew he couldn't stop, not yet. As such, he turned towards the Hermits, sword in hand, ready to make up and recite the final two stanzas.
"We will make sure all plans of yours will fall.
And you will too, no matter what you try!
Cause we are strong together after all,
Come face our swords, for you it’s time to die!
My friends! Have courage, go, do fight, and see!
There is no force that is stronger than we!"
At his last words, he held his hand aloft, channelling his willpower into it and smiling before aiming it at his allies. A pulse came from it, rippling through the air like a soundwave, and when it passed his ears, Joe swore he could hear his own laughter and a battle cry, intertwined to form a new kind of noise, one of hope, one of courage. The pulse continued on and on through the volcano, bouncing off of walls and spreading around, until it came across those it was meant for.
The Hermits that were touched by it glowed for a split second, before particles looking like musical notes started swirling around them, and the poet could see how their faces changed, how last bits of fear disappeared, instead replaced with hope and the will to carry on.
Of course, his poetry didn't actually make fear completely go away, instead enlarging the positive emotions and feelings that were already there, but that was a technicality. The effect was the same, and that was all that mattered.
Much as he wanted to take a moment to gather up some strength after the feat he had just pulled, Joe knew that that was not an option. He needed to take to the air again, to take out his weaponry and to start being as distracting and annoying as he could be. Luckily for him, being distracting and annoying was one of those tasks that were a perfect fit for him. He'd catch the attention of the enemy with no effort at all, mostly because he had just done so as a by-product of buffing his fellow Hermits, and while he had that attention... Let's just say he had a few very philosophical debates he could fire at them. That, and arrows. Certainly, the arrows would hurt at a more physical level, but the psychic damage that a well-constructed existentialist rhetoric could have... it was not something to be underestimated.
Without thinking about his course of action more, Joe quickly scanned the ground below him for additional volcanic vents that could give him a boost into the air, and when he found none, he decided that perhaps it would just be best to use fireworks instead. He had been spotted anyway, stealth was the last of his concerns right there and then.
As such, he grabbed a rocket, before jumping over the railing of the balcony. Then he lit the rocket in a single swift motion, and he was off, into the air once more. The poet didn't look behind him as he went back to circle to gain some height, in the meanwhile grabbing his bow. Shooting while moving was difficult but killing was not his primary goal. Just distracting. Just making sure their enemies had to pay at the very least some attention to the skies. That, and covering for Keralis and Jevin, that actually went diving in and out of the fight, swords drawn.
Down on the ground, things were starting to become an almost delightful chaos. Ren was running around, trying to claw at this shield or that, while Grian was in the air, attempting to move around the various ground teams in order to take down the supporting backline. Jevin didn't let him, though, matching his every move and clashing swords with him whenever he had a chance. Meanwhile, various spiders came running up, both on the floor and on the walls, hoping to get the drop on the attackers. There were many of them, sure, but nowhere near as many as there had been in the lair, and Joe felt that despite their failure to retrieve Wels back then, they definitely had put quite a dent in the number of troops Arachne could muster. Certainly, the case of the Hermits was strengthened further by the addition of Biffa, Iskall, and Scar to their teams, which meant two extremely capable fighters and an excellent builder were now no longer on the side of the spiders.
Speaking of spiders, Joe took out an arrow, nocked it, and let go, aiming for Arachne's bulging abdomen. Despite the power behind the bow, the arrow ricocheted off of their dark green carapace, but at the very least it meant he once again had their attention.
"You, down below, surrender while you can! Your tyranny will end today, we won't let you finish your master plan!" he shouted out, but Joe didn't grin or gloat or mock. He knew the battle would not be over until it was over, and he was not about to enrage an enemy that had shown they were very potent at taking those down they wanted to see gone.
"The fly talks an awful lot... Come face me, then. Come end me." They waited for a moment, gauging his reaction. The poet, however, stayed where he was. He was not intending to try to duel Arachne, especially not in an area that they had been in for longer. "Aww, is the little fly afraid? Afraid of the big spider? You should be..." Then they let out a sound he could only describe as a cackle, mixed with clicks and hisses as their mandibles moved.
"This is not fear, you know, it's merely common sense. After all, flies have most advantage in an aerial offence." He still did not smile, instead nocking another arrow and letting it fly, this time aiming for their torso. It seemed at the very least slightly less armoured with that carapace, but at the same time, it was also a much smaller target.
Much like before, though, it did not have any effect, missing by about half a meter before falling on the ground harmlessly. It was a real shame, that, but at the very least he had their full attention now.
Still, instead of trying to get to him, as he had expected them to do, they stayed where they were, almost as though they were guarding something. it wasn't a throne, though, nor was it a web or a portal, those were all a lot further away. Joe squinted, his eyes roaming over the area of the volcano they were in. What was it that was so important? What bit was it they wanted to guard, to protect? If he could figure that out…
The poet took a moment to think about it as he circled, his eyes still scanning the middle part of the volcano, the cone of black rock that was jutting up, lava bubbling within it. Then he noticed a few bits of the rock that were sticking out at odd angles. Thin slabs, almost doorlike, an opening behind them.
Still, it was only when a muffled cry sounded from the rock behind Arachne that he put two and two together. Scar had told them of the cells, of where they were, and if the spider was guarding a particular one of them, Joe could take an educated guess as to who would be inside of it.
Xisuma! That’s where he is! But how do I get that bastard away from there?
His eyes quickly moved between the two areas he could lure them to, but neither option was great. Going one way would only bring them closer to the ground teams, that were already having a hard time winning ground against the spiders, while heading the other way would interfere with the water team’s stealth mission. The only other viable option would be to get them climbing, and Joe nodded to himself.
Then he nocked an arrow, and dove down.
Notes:
i hate sonnets i hate sonnets i hate sonnets
Chapter 117: Arc 4 - 3
Summary:
Sneaky sneakers sneaking, a rescue is underway
Notes:
brief mention of drowning in the paragraph staring with "She swam on and on [...]"
mild descriptions of wounds and gore starting from "In the end, she needed neither [...]", lasting a few paragraphs
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Outside of the volcano, Scar, Iskall, and Cleo had made land at the spot Scar had pointed out. It had been a little bit farther away than the entrance the others would be using, but that was okay. Whether they got soaked by the rain or by swimming underwater didn’t make too much of a difference in the grand scheme of things. Still, all three of them ached to get going, if only because then they wouldn't feel as though they were doing nothing. All three of them recognised the importance of waiting a moment, though. If they were the first team to come barging in, then all eyes would be on them, invisibility or not. If any enemies inside were distracted by the ground teams, though... Well. That would mean any noise the water team would make would be masked by the sounds of running footsteps and battle.
Cleo looked around her little group, keeping half an eye on her communicator. Stress would signal them when they could get going, and the zombie was not going to be throwing any kind of potion before that very moment. After all, she didn't know how much time they would be needing to get inside, nor how long it would take to get the prisoners out, but they might well end up in a situation where every second of speed or invisibility counted. The same went for water breathing, although that one was slightly less pressing. They were going to have to splash a potion of water breathing on whoever they could get out anyway, and as such, running out of that after they had gotten inside was not as much of an issue.
Scar stood hopping from one leg to the other, rubbing his hands over his arms to keep himself a little warmer. It was a problem Cleo no longer experienced, which was one of the minor benefits of being undead. Certainly, she still got cold or hot, but the limits for that lay a lot further than for your average human being. Assuming that Scar was close enough to fully human to be compared, that was. After all the time she had known the landscaper, she still wasn't completely sure, especially not after the shenanigans with the ConVex. After all, how was she even supposed to start a conversation to ask about that? 'Hey man, are you human? Completely human, I mean?' It was awkward, definitely, not to speak about the game of defining what fully human was afterwards. It was easier to just assume that since he looked like a human, sounded like a human, and acted like a human, that he actually was a human. So far, it had worked well enough.
"You know, I think we should go and huddle for warmth! I think that would be nice, yes, wouldn't you guys agree?" the man asked, a slight tremble in his voice. Cleo just gave him a deadpan glare in return, and Iskall... Well, it looked like the swede was halfway through the process of zoning out, his hand gripped tightly around the pommel of his sheathed sword.
"I think that's a no, then... Such a shame! You don’t know what kind of warmth you’re missing,” he pouted, wallowing in exaggerated self-pity. The zombie wanted to say something in return, but just then, her communicator buzzed to life.
<Stressmonster101> got em distracted, it's safe to come in now luv
<Stressmonster101> be careful tho, arachne is still hanging around out back
<ZombieCleo> Alright! We're on our way!
With a nod, she put the device away again, instead grabbing a few potions from her bandolier.
"Alright kids, gather 'round, it's splashing time!" she said in a bit of a sing-songy voice. Scar stepped closer immediately, muttering something about women and changing their minds like the weather, while Iskall just stared off in the distance, uncaring about the rain that was blowing into his face.
"Hey? Iskall? Everything alright? Iskall?" Cleo tried, waving her hand through his field of view. It seemed to do the trick, and he blinked a few times, getting back to the present.
"Whoopsie, sorry, I just..." He trailed off, shaking his head once as though trying to get rid of some thoughts. "What's happening? Is it time to go?"
Cleo just nodded, holding up the bottles.
"Yep. Just one more thing before we leave, and then into the water we go."
"Right. Okay. Yes. Okay. Let's get this over with."
The trio stood in a small circle as Cleo threw the bottles onto the floor, the bottles scattering and the potions within washing over them. Almost instantly, she could no longer see the other two, save for the subtle yet visible particles floating around in the air.
"Good! Now we're ready. Scar, lead the way! Oh, and make sure you hold something so we can actually see where you're going," Cleo spoke, hoping the other two hadn't moved yet and she was talking in the right direction.
"Oh! Right, of course!" Scar spoke, and half a second later, she could see a light blue mask floating in the air about a metre away from her. It moved towards the water at a steady pace, then, pausing a moment before a splash sounded and it went in. Cleo followed it quickly, but not as quick as Iskall, apparently, given that a second large splash came not two seconds after the first, just a little to the left this time, undoubtedly so he wouldn't land on top of the landscaper.
Then she hit the water herself, the sea drowning out a large part of the sounds of the storm that was raging above them. Still, she could hear the sounds of the waves crashing into the edges of the island, and the rain drumming onto the surface. It was just muted and warped, as everything below the surface seemed to be. The flowing water played with what light came from both outside of the volcano and inside, leaving some patches of the seafloor in twilight and others illuminated in shifting orange patterns.
Cleo looked around, having to squint before being able to find the Vex mask again, already in the process of diving deeper to get properly under the island. There was nothing else to do than to just follow it and to trust Scar to know where he was going. He had built the place, after all, he should be all means know the layout.
She swam on and on, letting the water into her lungs as she breathed, feeling the feeling of drowning without actually drowning. Despite having felt it many times before, she would never get used to it, and one of these days, if she had time, she wanted to figure out a way to make the potion work differently, more pleasantly. Still, it was better than actually drowning, she supposed.
On and on and on they swam, deeper at first as the shape of the island curved above them, and then back to the surface once more when they got past the initial lower ring of stone. From there on, the trio moved through a series of smaller rooms, their edges ending just below the surface of the water, and the air in them stale after not having been in contact with the outside since they were built. Nevertheless, Cleo found it somewhat nice to breathe in normal air in between the stretches of swimming. Having water in her lungs always pulled at some of her deeper instincts, to give in to her nature and to sink to the bottom, to turn blue and green and to pull an unsuspecting victim down to drown them. As such, it came as more than a nice surprise when they broke the surface again, this time inside of the main cavern of the volcano. The sounds of battle sounded on the other end, and if she looked up, Cleo could see some of the others circling in the air high above, shooting arrows at this enemy or another.
The combination meant that no one, spider nor person, was looking in their direction as they moved closer to the shore, pulling themselves up to the side of a bridge of stone and moving in. The first few paces, they still left wet footprints, and Cleo was acutely aware of the sounds of dripping water that surrounded them. Still, she could hear more dripping water, thanks to the rain coming in through a hole in the ceiling, which put her a little bit more at ease.
Scar sped up as he moved, judging by the speed of the mask, and the zombie followed, heading straight for the middle of the volcano. According to the landscaper, there would be cells there, although she couldn't quite make out where they would be. All she saw was dark stone, like there was all around, some bits at this angle, some bits at another angle. If she hadn't known there would be cells there, she would have probably written off some of the cries she heard from within the stone as the howling of the wind outside. She did know, though, and as such, she was able to recognise the voices. Mumbo seemed to not be having a great time, and neither was Xisuma, and Wels... Wels was just silent. She didn't hear him at all, but that didn't have to mean anything. That man could be damned stubborn if he wanted to, so it wasn't weird for him to be silent in the face of adversity.
Cleo moved on until she could press her back against the warm stone of the volcanic core, feeling some of the water in her clothes sizzle away and turn to steam. Then she carefully moved around the core, looking for any kind of indication as to where the cells were exactly.
Instead of that, though, she was greeted by the sight of Arachne ducking away from an arrow, shot evidently by Joe, who was in the process of diving down towards them. What his plan was exactly, she didn't know, but it was Joe, so it was probably something daft, out of the box, and questionably efficient. Probably not as daft as a plan cooked up by Grian, or as questionably efficient as a plan made by Zedaph would be, but whenever Joe thought of a solution to a problem, it was never quite as conventional as it could be. Usually, it was one of the many reasons she liked the poet, but right there and then, it made her heart drop as she worried about him.
It worried her even more that she couldn't just stand there and watch, she needed to just believe that he would be doing something that could be considered smart while she went on with her own mission. At the very least, she now knew she shouldn't be searching for the cells on that side of the volcanic core, not if she didn't want to be caught by their enemy. It could jeopardise the whole mission if Arachne made the logical leap to say that one invisible person sneaking around could mean there were more, and that was not a risk Cleo was willing to take, not in the slightest.
As such she stayed there for just a moment longer as Joe dove past Arachne, shouting some winding sentence that felt like it could be a compliment if it wasn't so filled with words that denounced everything about the spider. It slightly confused Cleo despite the amount of time she had spent with Joe, and it had an even larger effect on Arachne, who stood still for just a moment too long to catch the poet in their claws. He pulled up again, boosting himself with rockets, and was gone from her field of view, and Cleo could see how Arachne was craning their head backwards, following Joe's trajectory with eight glowing red eyes.
Whatever Joe was doing, it at the very least was a decent enough distraction for her to get back to work with the knowledge that she didn't have to watch her back all that much as long as Joe could fly free. As such, she snuck back around the core, one hand stretched out in front of her to feel for Iskall and Scar, one hand gliding over the rocky surface to hopefully spot the edges of some kind of door.
In the end, she needed neither of those options. She found the other two of the water team by the fact they were holding pickaxes, and she found the door to a cell because it was slightly ajar. Inside, she could see Mumbo, a cobweb made of bloody flesh hanging over his head and face like some sort of veil. Dark lines spread over his body, following his veins, and he was staring at the ground, sobs rolling over his lips. His hands were tied up high above him, leaving him on his toes, and what was left of his suit clung to bloody skin. He looked miserable, to say the least, but he was still alive, and still seemingly himself. The lines on his skin didn't look the same as those that Scar had, or the ones that Biffa or Iskall had had, and looked more like Python's markings. Markings of poison, not of control. It was a good thing.
Without waiting for what the others were doing, Cleo got out a bottle of milk and a healing potion, uncorking them both. Then she brought the bottle of milk to Mumbo's lips, gently tipping his head back a little. The sounds of battle around them were loud enough that she dared whisper, and so, she did.
"Just hang on a little bit longer, Mumbo. We're here to get you out. Me and Iskall and Scar will get you to safety. Now, though, I need you to drink this, it'll make you feel better."
Mumbo, though, simply shook his head, turning away from her.
"No..." he muttered, teeth kept closely together. "I- I won't fall for this again. This is a trap."
Cleo sighed, not knowing how to respond. Of course it looked fishy as hell, she knew that, but that was kind of the point. There wasn't really a way to sneak into somewhere that wasn't fishy.
"Listen, Mumbo, I get that you're trying to be smart here, but really, this isn't working. It really is us. Now, drink the milk before we're spotted." She still whispered, but a little bit more annoyed and angrily this time. They simply didn't have time for these kinds of shenanigans.
Still, the redstoner didn't listen, keeping his head stubbornly turned away, his lips pressed firmly against his arm so he couldn't be forced to drink.
"Cleo? Do you have this under control? If so, me and Iskall are gonna look for Wels. I'm sure he was around here somewhere..." Scar whispered, his voice sounding a whole lot closer than she would have liked.
"Scar! Personal space!" she whispered in response, and she could feel a hand brushing against her back, before she heard foots shuffling backwards.
"Whoops! Sorry, didn't mean to-"
"Whatever. Just... I got this. You go get Wels. As for Xisuma... I don't know where he is, but Arachne is right around the corner, so don't go there, not just yet."
"Alrighty, that I can do."
She heard clothes shift and judging by the movement of the pickaxe in his hand, he was trying to do something that resembled a salute. Cleo rolled her eyes, before refocussing on Mumbo.
"Look, I don't have a whole lot of time, I don't know when they're going to notice we're here. So just work with me here, I don't want to force you to drink but I swear I will do so if you don't cooperate." She hissed the words at him, still keeping her voice down, again presenting the bottle of milk as well as the bottle with the healing potion in it.
Mumbo shifted around, this time actually looking at the bottles.
"Are you... You really are Cleo, then? No tricks?" his voice was weak and trembled, tears still flowing over his cheeks. "I can't see you... Please tell me this is real. Please, please, I need this to be real."
Her heart broke a tiny bit as he spoke, and Cleo couldn't help but dwell on it for a moment. What had Arachne done to him, if this was how he responded? What kind of torture did they put him through?
"Don't worry, it is real. Everyone is here to save you guys. I'll explain it once we get out of here. Now, drink the milk. Please."
She held the bottle in front of him again, close enough for him to drink it should he decide he wanted to.
"Thank the Void..." he just muttered, eyes raising to the sky for a moment before he moved to drink from the bottle. Cleo helped him as best as she could, tipping the milk into his mouth a little bit at a time, letting him decide the pace. The effect was near-instant, the dark lines under his skin clearing up as the liquid entered his system. Still, she didn't stop feeding it to him until the bottle was completely empty, at which point Mumbo leaned his head back and sighed.
"This is so much better already. Cleo, you have no idea how much of a saviour you are."
"Mmhmm... I'm not done yet, though. Health potion is next on the menu," she said, putting the empty bottle back in her inventory. "Also, let me just get rid of whatever this is." She lifted up the cobweb, peeling it away from his head. It left a clear pattern of dried blood on his face, but if that was the worst thing that happened, she was more than willing to make that sacrifice.
"I- I'm pretty sure that's my skin," Mumbo said, his voice trembling as he uncomfortably shifted around in his bonds. "Also, can you like, do something about these?" he asked, shifting his hands and making his bonds clank a little.
"All in due time. Let's heal you up first." Cleo held out the second bottle for him, and he downed it without a second thought. Instead, he breathed a sigh of relief as some of his wounds started to stitch together slowly. It didn't instantly make him completely healthy again, the damage done was simply too great for that, but at the very least he wouldn't die the moment someone looked at him in a wrong way, and that was enough for that moment.
The zombie then put the second bottle away as well, before taking out her pickaxe and a bit of scaffolding so she could properly reach. Then started the tedious job of getting rid of the restraints without hurting Mumbo too much. She knew she wouldn't be able to completely stop him from feeling it, but he'd just have to deal with it for a moment. It was a small price to pay for getting out, and she didn't care what he'd think about it, she'd just go right ahead and do it.
And so Cleo hacked away at the chains and ropes, intending mostly to just disconnect them from the ceiling. The rest she'd take care of later, when they were out of there. Again, it wasn't the best situation, but in the worst case, the zombie would just drag him along underwater, so that he didn't even need to swim with his arms. If that was what it would take to bring at the very least one person to safety, then so be it.
Cleo worked on and on and on, periodically looking over her shoulder to make sure she was still safe, and muttering small words of encouragement to Mumbo, who had finally managed to stop crying and was now just shaking from a combination of fear and pain. He was silent, too, every now and then opening up his mouth to say something before just closing it again, not knowing what he wanted to say or how to say it.
Just as well. If he's too loud, or too obviously happy, he might give us away.
Still, Cleo knew all too well that the sound of her pickaxe against the chains would be louder than any sound Mumbo would be making by speaking, and she could only hope that the raging battle outside was loud enough to cover for that.
It seemed fate was on her side this time, though. The chains snapped before anyone came in, and Mumbo tumbled to the ground, suddenly no longer supported.
"Sorry!" Cleo whispered loudly, jumping down from the scaffolding. She didn't even bother cleaning it up, knowing full well that she didn't have that kind of time on her side. Then she quickly helped Mumbo to his feet, wrapping an arm around him to support him. "Let's get you out of here."
Notes:
dont you all think this is going a little bit too smoothly? :D
Chapter 118: Arc 4 - 4
Summary:
A pest dealt with. A deal struck.
Notes:
tws:
graphic violence, gore, and death from the paragraph starting with "It didn't even take long [...]", safe to continue at the paragraph starting with ""NO! [NAME]!"". Second occurrence starting at "Tsk... Well, your loss.", safe to continue at "Arachne looked around again [...]"
implied cannibalism in the paragraph starting with "A zombie became visible [...]"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
They really should have realised something was going to happen. They had known those pesky flies had been going out every day in order to gather things, but what for... Arachne had not connected the dots in time, and that was on them. Especially when they had felt their connection to several of their little spiders fade, one after the other, they should have known something was coming. Of course, some of those spiders had been captured already, fallen into enemy hands, but one of them... One of them had been inside of their lair as it had happened. And he had left, just like that, fleeing away from them.
And still, it had come as quite the surprise when the group of flies had suddenly come swarming in as though they owned the place. It was definitely something Arachne planned on learning from, after they had beaten down this… insurrection. For the moment, though, they had just sent in those spiders that were still loyal to them to weaken the attackers, while they themselves tried to think of a proper way to handle the situation.
It was certainly tempting to pull out one of the little flies stuck in their web, to sacrifice one of them in order for the rest to leave them alone, but at the same time, they knew that would only be a temporary solution. No, the others would simply come swarming back in, demanding another one back, and another one, on and on until they had no one left at their side. It simply would not do.
Their thoughts were rudely interrupted by one of the flies, a man with a blue shirt flying over and starting to recite poetry, first at them, then at the other flies. If that would have been all, they would have gladly ignored it, but the man did not stop. He simply came circling back, hurling arrows at them, and when that didn't work, he called out more words. Words about surrendering, words about giving up. But Arachne knew the words for what they were. A last desperate attempt by someone that knew he was going to lose a direct confrontation.
And Arachne let him know that they knew. And still, he kept talking, kept talking about advantages and not fearing them.
They hissed in response, feeling anger and seething rage bubbling up inside them. He dared disrespect them? Them, the one set to rule? He must have really been out of his mind. Then he started to dive down, shouting more words, words that confused them. Arachne simply didn't know what he was trying to get at, and when they figured out it was simply a cleverly-hidden insult, he had already flown past them, out of their reach once more.
Arachne squinted as they looked up, following his flight carefully, the rest of the fight almost forgotten. He circled high above them, together with another man, although that one was more focussed on the large group of flies on the ground.
Perfect.
With a grin, they simply waited. Whatever he said wouldn't matter. All that would matter was the fact that he would be getting within their reach, flying into their web willingly.
It didn't even take long for the fly to circle around again, starting another monologue as he dove down, preceded by another arrow they easily dodged. They didn't listen as he spoke, they just watched, watched and waited and jumped at the right moment, grasping an arm and a leg in their hands and squeezing while he cried out in pain as their claws dug in further, tearing through his flesh. Arachne most definitely didn't care about his protests, though. Instead, they just kept on squeezing until they could hear bones snap with a sickening crunch. The cry he let out echoed against the walls of the volcanic cavern, and for a short moment, it looked as though those others on the ground had noticed what they were doing. They pointed and shouted, trying to move closer, but their little spiders held their advance back. It was enough to give Arachne the time to do what they needed to do.
They pulled the man in closer towards them, grabbing his other arm and pushing his head to the side. Normally, they enjoyed playing with their prey more, but right there and then, they realised that it was better to get him out of there, to slowly whittle down the numbers of their enemies. They could always play with those last few that remained.
He struggled, he definitely did, but he was no match for their strength as they bit down into his neck, tearing out a chunk of flesh and injecting their poison into the wound. Blood sprayed out, the flow strengthening and weakening in time with his rapidly slowing pulse. He opened his mouth and eyes in quiet shock, before trying to say something as he was drowning in his own blood.
"We- We won't surrender. Not to you, not ever." He coughed and hackled the entire way through, his voice growing weaker and weaker by the moment. They simply grinned at him.
"I'll see about that. Now die." They brought their claw backwards, before launching it right into his chest, tearing through cloth and skin, then breaking past his ribs. Their fingers found his heart, the muscle still pumping blood around as though its life depended on it, and wrapped around it, before tearing it out, lifting it to the sky before throwing it to the side.
It only took a moment, after that, and the fly's eyes lost their sparkle. Then the body turned to smoke in their hands, everything the man had had on him falling to the floor. Arachne chuckled to themself for a moment, wiping the blood away from their mandibles. One down. Quite some to go.
"NO! JOE!" came a sudden scream from behind them, a woman's voice. She sounded angry and desperate and sad and heartbroken all at once, but when Arachne turned, they could see only the mole, the one they were sure they had locked away. "I will END you!" the voice continued, and all of a sudden the mole stumbled and fell to the ground, and a sword appeared in mid-air, coming at them at quite a high speed.
Invisibility, then? How cute...
Arachne grinned again, not waiting a single second before starting to move their hands and speaking in hisses and clicks. A green glow surrounded them, but the sword and its carrier didn't stop, she just kept on rushing forward. Then Arachne let the magic go, and it found the one in front of them, the effects on her ending all at once.
A zombie became visible, all drab green hair and angry eyes. She definitely looked different from the regular zombies Arachne had seen around, and a look of disdain filled their eyes. They disliked the undead, mostly because they tasted so incredibly dry, even after being turned to liquid. And even disregarding that, they simply tasted bland.
"I see you..." Arachne hissed, before turning completely around. Still, the zombie kept on coming, taken by rage.
"Cleo, don't!" the mole called out, but she didn't heed the warning. Mere seconds later, she tried to embed her sword deep into Arachne's flesh but failed when they moved slightly to the side before grabbing her arm and pushing it away. The zombie let out a cry of surprise, but tried to fix her mistakes quickly. Not fast enough, though, nowhere near fast enough. Arachne had already twisted her arm behind her back, forcing her onto her toes and then further up still until she was no longer on the ground, but was dangling by a shoulder that really didn't want to support her like that.
"Let go of me, you, you... You monster!" she snarled, trying to kick and bite and punch in some bad attempt to fight back.
"I might let you go, little fly, if you accept my mark," they spoke. Certainly, the probability of it actually working was low, and that of the mark doing its work in time was even lower, basically zero, but it was still worth the try.
"Go screw yourself, asshole!" the zombie responded, and Arachne just sighed. Those flies... They never did what was good for them, not even when the opportunity was pressed right up to their nose.
"Tsk... Well, your loss."
Almost casually, they ripped her arm further upward while pressing down on her shoulder, and with a loud pop they dislocated the joint. The zombie didn't cry out in pain, though, merely growling darkly at them as she kicked in the air and used the momentum to turn herself around, facing Arachne.
"Oh? A fighter? How quaint. It's such a shame I'm going to have to end it like this." Then they grabbed the sides of her head, before sharply turning it to the side, further than her spine wanted to allow. Arachne, however, didn't care about her spine, and just kept on twisting, until a sickening crack sounded, and her head was facing completely the other way. Just for good measure, they then used their claws to rip away the flesh around her neck, making sure that even if she somehow managed to survive a broken neck, the blood loss would do the rest.
They did get a response out of that, though. A stream of curses rolled over the zombie's lips, getting weaker and weaker until Arachne just ripped her head clean off. Her body fell to the ground with a thud, before completely disintegrating, leaving nothing but a small pile of various tools and potions. With a chuckle, they picked up some of the things that seemed most useful, doing the same for the pile the man had left behind. The rest they shoved off of the path, into the smouldering ashes below. Some things caught fire immediately, others merely got singed a little, others still seemed unharmed by the action, but it didn't matter to them. All that mattered was the fact that getting back those things was now significantly more difficult.
Arachne looked around again, checking out the progress of the other group of flies. It seemed like they were slowly but surely winning ground, which wasn't strange, given the fact that they were with a lot more than their spiders, but still, they could see some of them stumbling and hurting due to poison. The question wasn't if they would fall, but when. And when they did...
They looked around with a grin on their face, but that grin faltered when their gaze fell upon the man and the zombie again. The two were completely healthy again, albeit completely devoid of tools and armour, and were standing near their main web.
No! They still spawn here! I can't have them spawn here... I need to change that, immediately.
The question was whether they would have enough time to make the necessary alterations, knowing how long it had taken them the previous times. Was there enough time for that? Arachne squinted, estimating the distance to the two, as well as that to the other flies in the cavern. It seemed like there was enough distance, at least for the moment. That, and they knew they didn't necessarily need to put all the wards and traps back in place that they had put there before. After all, they had the other Worldshaper confined and rendered harmless. It would definitely save them some time, as putting those protections in place had been the most difficult part before.
Once more, Arachne looked around, seeing the two running away from the web, heading towards the back of the cavern, away from the others. It seemed like a strange way to go, but at the very least it meant that they would not be getting anything from their allies. It cemented Arachne's decision to correct the issue of their enemies coming back to life within the very same place they wanted them gone from, and without thinking about it more, they started hissing the correct words and making the correct gestures to access their Worldshaping magic. The first time they had gone through this specific process, it had been a rather tedious experience, not entirely sure what was going on or what they needed to change, but with every time they had messed with the fundamental laws of reality, they had gotten more and more adept at doing so, and doing so quickly. Arachne called forth the various screens and texts they needed, navigating through a maze of traps they had created themselves, simply following a nigh-invisible path they had left themself, a path of spider string and feeling and a touch of their magic. Using that, it took them shorter than expected to get to the point where reality unravelled before them, and they could make whatever alteration they wanted to.
First things first, the spawning. Instead of their lair, they just remembered a place far away, one of their oldest and farthest outposts. It had fallen in disuse many years before, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that sending an enemy there would mean that person would not bother them again for a long time. A very long time.
For a moment, they considered the other options they had, and suddenly, an idea crossed their mind. They had long noticed the lack of proper lighting in the volcano, and they knew exactly how they could use that to their advantage.
More clicks and hisses rolled over their lips as they formed the sentences they needed. It was not the shortest process, but they were definitely sure it was worth it. They had done it before, back when they had captured the first few of their little spiders, but only subtly, to ensure the change wasn't all too visible. Now, though, that subtlety was about to go straight out of the window. Those little flies already knew they were there, after all, and dramatically ramping up the number of spiders that were appearing from within the dark spots of the world could no longer give them away.
Once they were done with that second change too, Arachne decided that that was enough tempting fate. It would just have to do; it would just have to be enough to at the very least convince those flies to go away. Any other defences would just have to be put in place after they were gone. They nodded to themselves, backing out of the fabric of reality, and ending the magic.
Immediately, they felt it take its toll, rendering them unable to move for the shortest of moments. Normally, the Worldshaping magic wasn't all too taxing, but when one delved deep into the laws that governed the world... Well. Let's just say that those laws didn't enjoy getting changed, not in the slightest.
It did seem that they were still safe, though, and it did seem like their magic had worked. They could already see spiders crawling out of various of the buildings, larger than before, and faster too. The same went for the various ridges on the inside of the cavern walls, and a grin spread on their face. They were going to win this.
Arachne looked around, moving slightly to make sure they knew exactly where every single one of those flies was. The zombie and the man were still on the other side of the cavern, carefully moving around and seemingly talking to the air. Arachne squinted, remembering the zombie had been invisible, and realising there could very well be more like her, just sneaking around. It wouldn't do, that, and Arachne didn't even think before starting another bit of magic. If they could remove an effect from one person, they could do so for more of them, and it wasn't even that difficult. Just some simple clicks, some simple hisses, and some matching hand motions, and it was done. A green pulse spread from their hands, moving all around, and washing over the entirety of the cave, uncaring for walls or floors or ceilings.
It caused mixed feelings when they actually saw two people becoming visible again. Two people that should have been their little spiders. Two little spiders that had been stolen from them. A muscle underneath their eyelid started twitching, as did their hands. Did they really think they could get away from Arachne that easily? Did they really think they could just come wandering back in? The spider looked around, scanning over the larger group of flies, easily spotting the one in pink and yellow, despite the blue set of armoured plates he was now wearing. Another one. Another one that thought he could get away.
Arachne wouldn't stand for it, though. They would make sure they would get back. And so, they focussed on the three, tapping into their markings, knowing they were still there, despite how faded they were in some of the cases. The connection took a few seconds longer to be established than normal, but once it was there, they could see the robot stopping in his tracks, turning his head towards them. He looked almost scared, as though he didn't want whatever they were going to do, but Arachne would prove him wrong. They would make it clear that he never had a choice to begin with.
“Fight for me.”
The command that rolled over their lips wasn't loud, not in the slightest, but that wasn't necessary. They could quite clearly see the effect, could feel how all three of them tried to resist, some more than others. Their builder had obviously done something, given that they felt the connection being severed rather suddenly, joined by the sounds of high-pitched laughter filling their ears, but the other two... The other two could in the end do nothing but comply.
They saw their original servant pausing for a second, before his eyes glowed up green, and he turned his sword towards the blonde woman standing next to him. A quick glance over to the other side of the cavern revealed much the same going on over there, with the one they had taken an eye from grinning before leaping towards their builder, holding an axe in his hand.
And Arachne couldn't help but laugh. In an instant, the tides had turned, and it seemed like everyone in the volcano knew. They could hear panicked shouts, cries of pain, and running footsteps, all sounds they loved to hear. It simply meant they had the upper hand again.
Still, this time, they weren't going to underestimate their enemies, not this time. They had proven before how resourceful they could be, how much of a plan they could improvise in a moment's time, and Arachne knew that they needed to end this quickly, before those pesky flies could figure out a way to halt them. If only they could just get that Worldshaper to accept their mark… But it seemed he was too concerned with those others, though, those that by all means should have been his underlings but weren’t.
A sudden idea popped up in their head, and they grinned. Perhaps, just perhaps, they could use it against him. They glanced over at the ongoing battle, judging they still had the time to do what they needed to do, and went into the Worldshaper’s cell, sealing the door behind them.
He was already looking at them with tired and worried eyes, undoubtedly having heard the screams mere minutes ago. They simply chuckled at how much of a wreck he looked, coming closer and leaning over him.
“Did you know it’s possible to teach the very laws of the universe new things?” they simply asked, enjoying the look of confusion in his eyes. “Like where people new to the world should end up, or the fact that even Travellers are only supposed to have one life?”
With utter care, they studied the blood that still stained their hands, making sure the Worldshaper could see it too. It took a moment for him to connect the dots, then he wordlessly cried out, trashing against his bonds as though they would suddenly let him out now.
“You heard them scream, didn’t you? They both screamed as I ended their pathetic little lives. And you know? I think I’m going to go out there and kill a few more, just for fun.” They cackled, knowing fully well that while they hadn’t technically lied, they most definitely implied something that wasn’t true. And the Worldshaper just took it as face value, muffled yells coming from behind his gag. His eyes became wet with tears, despite him trying to blink them away, and Arachne just laughed.
“Oh? You have opinions about that, little Worldshaper? Ah, let me guess.” They scraped their throat, before continuing on, their voice mocking. “Please don’t kill my pathetic friends, that’s evil.” Again, Arachne laughed. “Was that it? Should I leave those flies alone and alive, hmm?”
It barely took a second, before he started nodding vigorously.
“And what would I get in return?”
They could see him struggle with himself, see him doubt, before settling down, tears flowing freely. The Worldshaper spoke a single word, and although it was muffled beyond belief, Arachne just knew what he had said.
Me.
“You will accept my mark, then?”
Again, he nodded, but weaker this time, defeated.
“Done, little Worldshaper. You won’t regret this.”
They hissed and clicked the worlds, their claw glowing up green as their nails elongated. Then they simply pierced them into his chest, and into his heart, spreading their poison into his system. For a second, it seemed like he was in immense pain, then his eyes fell closed again. His wounds started to heal too, slowly but surely. Arachne didn’t release him just yet, knowing fully well that the change would take some time to sink in.
And once it did, they had won, once and for all.
Notes:
do you ever have characters that see your planned plot, say 'nah', rip it to pieces, and then make up their own thing?
yeah. so that happened. sorry, I guess?
Chapter 119: Arc 4 - 5
Summary:
The battle for the first bridge.
Notes:
tw for head trauma. first occurring briefly in the paragraph starting with "No, the only real troubles [...]", second occurrence in the paragraph starting with "[name] started swinging wilder [...]", ending in the paragraph after it.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It had been going so well. Really well, even. They had been steadily making progress, steadily winning ground against the spider forces, and now... Now their luck was turning. Tango didn't really want to admit it, but there was little else he could do as he stepped forward, blocking an attack against Impulse at the very last moment, before Evil X stuck a sword in the offending spider. They were being pushed back again, now that there were more and more spiders crawling up from all corners of the volcano, and it almost started to feel like he was back in that lair again, back to fighting his way through the tunnels and hallways. Except this time, it wasn't just spiders he was fighting. There were also those that were wearing the faces of his friends, people he had a hard time trying to actually hit.
And yet, he didn't really have a choice, now did he? Especially when Biffa had turned against them, the green lines on his body flaring up again, his eyes glowing before he turned towards False, trying to stab her in the back. From there on out, it had become hard, so hard to keep pushing on. They had managed to get the robot out of their frontlines, which at the very least meant they could try to keep him off a little bit better, but they were still being attacked in the flanks whenever Grian managed to slip past Jevin. And then there was still Ren, having gone what seemed like completely feral. Why else would he have thrown his weapons to the side, instead going at it with claws that were longer and sharper than his fingernails were supposed to be? How it had happened was a bit of a mystery, but it also very much was not a priority, Tango knew that.
As he slew more and more spiders, trying to hold his ground, he let his eyes dance over the scene before him in an attempt to figure out a way to actually win the fight. They needed to light up the place if they wanted the unending stream of spiders to stop, that much was sure, but how? They were still trapped in the area directly behind the entrance, and if they couldn't even move a few metres forward, then how were they even supposed to get to the rest of the cavern?
Then his eyes fell on Cub, that was still circling around the centre of the volcano, sharpshooting spiders from above. Immediately, Tango got an idea.
"ZITX, heads up! I'm going to step back for half a minute. Be ready to adjust!" he spoke, loud enough that the others heard him over the sounds of battle.
"Gotcha!" Zedaph replied, and that was all the confirmation he needed. The demon moved back, seeing how the hole in their line got effortlessly filled up. Then he turned and ran over to Stress.
"Stress, I need you to get Cub and whoever else is available on aerial to disable the dark spots, we got too many spawns to deal with!” Tango didn’t even wait to get her attention, knowing she was keeping an eye on everything – or trying to do so, anyway.
“I- I’ll see what I can do for you. I saw Arachne going in somewhere, so that should give us at least some time to do things, although… I don’t trust it,” she responded, already typing away on her communicator.
“Mmhmm… Me neither. In any case, once more into the breach I go.” With a nod, he ran back to the lines, effortlessly falling back in the dance of his team. They slaughtered spiders one after the other, partially covering for Doc and False as they tried to hold Biffa off. Whenever he could, the demon glanced around for Cub, trying to see if the plan was set into motion, before going back to swinging his sword and kicking away arachnids that were trying things he didn’t like.
Next to him, False was having a bit of a hard time. The sight of the spiders in the poorly-lit cavern brought her back to the last time she had to fight Biffa, and all her instincts told her to run away, to get out of there, to save herself while she still could. Her hands were shaking, knuckles white with how tight she had wrapped her fingers around her sword. But still, she was standing there, standing and fighting, not allowing herself to retreat, no matter how scared she was.
I’m a fighter. I’m one of the best fighters we have, and without me, we’re toast. I can’t retreat. I can’t retreat or they’ll kill my friends. I can’t retreat. I can’t retreat. I won’t retreat. I’m… I’m brave. I’m brave and I’m a fighter and I’m gonna save my friends, all of them. I won’t retreat.
She repeated the words in her head as though they were a mantra, trying to drown out the other bits of her that wanted her to get out. Years of muscle memory carried her the rest of the way, allowing her to block and dodge and parry and even once or twice to attack while she internally tried to stave off the panic attack that she had lowkey been in since they had left the bunker.
If Doc had noticed any of it, he hadn’t commented on it. Instead, he simply fought beside her, filling in for her at any point where she left a weakness. False appreciated it, really. It made her feel at the very least somewhat competent, although that was all she could say. She knew very well that even on a good day, Doc and her together were barely strong and skilled enough to beat the robot, and what they were doing right there and then was nothing except delaying the inevitable. And yet…
It felt as though Biffa wasn’t fighting at full power. As though there was something inside of him that was stomping on the breaks, even then. It had only become more apparent as time ticked on, and much to her surprise, False found she could actually take small steps forwards every now and then.
Doc noticed it too, it seemed, following along bit by bit.
“Biffa, get your act together, man. This isn’t you. We need you, the real you. How else are we supposed to save Xisuma?” His voice was clear and calculated as he spoke, his focus on attacking gone as he simply defended instead. “You know, one of your oldest and best friends?”
The words had some effect, as the robot’s rhythm of attacks got thrown off for just a second, the glow in his eyes blinking away before returning.
“R-right. Biffa! Please, you’ve- You’ve beaten this before, you can do it again!” False called out, her words shaky but filled with good intent.
“Yeah! Focus on what’s important to you, focus on your memories. That spider isn’t the boss of you, go ahead and show it!”
Together, Doc and False kept on calling out to the robot, and slowly, very slowly, the green glow in his eyes began blinking out, short at first, then longer and longer until he completely stopped attacking, instead standing there, body shaking as he slowly put one of his swords away, and grabbing a bottle of milk instead. Bringing it to his lips seemed to take forever, but once he did, the liquid flowed in, and the last of the green completely faded away.
The bottle fell from his hand, shattering on the floor, before he turned around, taking up his second sword again.
He acted calmly, almost too calmly as he stood there staring at the centre of the volcano, at all those places where spiders still crawled.
“Get ready. I’m going to break a path through. This ends now.”
His words sent a chill down False’s spine, but she nonetheless gripped her sword tighter still, perhaps more out of fear than because of anything else.
I can't I can't I can't I don't want to die I'm going to die I'm going to die
The words repeated over and over in her head, and False shook her head, willing them to get out.
I can. I can. I have to and I can. They'll protect me, they'll help me, so I'm going and I won't die. I won't die. I won't die, I refuse to do so.
She tried thinking the words instead, wanting to believe in them, really.
And then Biffa started running forwards, completely silently, his blades in a point before him. At least, until he met the first spider. He simply hacked through it and kept on going, not stopping, never stopping. Next to her, she saw Doc move up as well, and she felt her own body moving as though it went automatically. She ran, too, holding out her sword, cleaning up the side of the bridging pathway as best as she could while the cyborg did the same on the other side. All the while, she was simply thinking that she was going to do it, that she had to do it, but she didn't want to think about what would happen if she didn't. She didn't want her brain to start going down a path of doom and destruction again, she didn't want to give in to her emotions, to her fears.
She didn't want to die, and shooting into a panic there and then was definitely going to cause that.
Instead, she just fought like her life depended on it, like her friends depended on it, like everything she had ever cared about depended on it. And in a way, it did. After all, didn't Arachne threaten literally all of that?
It wasn't hard to cut down the spiders, one after the other. It wasn't hard to slaughter them in cold blood, as they so surely would do to her. She just kept on slashing and stabbing and kicking and punching and pushing and doing whatever was necessary to keep up with Biffa, to clear the bridge that would lead them closer to the centre. They needed this, they needed this push, they needed to have more ground covered, more area won back.
False wasn't afraid of spiders coming from down below, not really. Even if she was, it was nothing compared to the fear that was already coursing through her system. She knew there was smouldering ash and lava beneath her, and she knew she wouldn't like to be on there, and the spiders probably wouldn't like to be either. Sure, perhaps they would be crawling upside down, but the chance was... Not that high.
No, the only real troubles they would have, were those spiders coming from the front, those slipping past team ZITX, or Grian and Ren coming after them. The aerial team seemed to do well enough with distracting those latter two, though. Keralis was still fighting Ren, moving around him quick enough not to get hit with his claws. Instead of attacking with the intent to kill, the wide-eyed man was going at it with the intent to remove him from the fight in a different way, making many small cuts that would tire Ren out quickly, and every now and then trying to strike for the head or the spine with either a pommel or a fist in the hopes of trying to knock him out.
At the same time, Jevin was fighting Grian in the sky, swords clashing and shields bashing together as they circled around each other, up and over and under and behind and going everywhere in a dance of steel and diamond. Grian was obviously more at home in the sky than Jevin, that had to make use of the hot air and the updrafts to gain height and had to light fireworks to turn quickly, but they were still rather evenly matched, mostly because they had fought before, and Jevin knew quite some of Grian's tricks already.
All the while, he was talking, trying to get some sense into him, trying to get him to realise that that was not who he was, that they were supposed to be friends, that he shouldn't be following the spider. It had not as big a result as the slime man had hoped, though, merely serving to anger Grian further. The green never quite faded from his eyes, instead only gaining in intensity as his attacks grew more ferocious - and more careless. Once Jevin figured that one out, he just kept on trying to convince Grian on who he was, talking on and on and on and never quite stopping, no longer intent on talking him back to his senses but rather to anger him more, to taunt him into making mistakes that would mean victory for the Hermits. Of course, Jevin didn’t want to kill him, he merely wanted to take him out of the battle, and whether that was by knocking him out or by getting rid of whatever influence Arachne had over him, that didn’t matter in the long run.
Grian started swinging wilder and wilder, just intent on killing the slime man in as brutal a way as he could, caring less and less about his surroundings. Jevin did, though. Jevin was watching out, his moves in the air deliberate in order to lure Grian up higher and higher, up and up and up faster and faster, until just before the roof, he turned around mid-air, launching himself downward with another rocket. His feet momentarily brushed against the stone as his trajectory changed, but Grian wasn’t that lucky. The builder hadn’t anticipated the sudden turn in his anger, and his upwards momentum propelled him face-first against the rock.
“Oh…” he managed to bring out, before his eyes fell closed, and he started falling down, slow at first, but faster and faster once gravity took a hold of him properly. Jevin didn’t particularly feel like letting Grian die from fall damage, though, and changed his path again, catching him instead, bringing him down to the ground next to TFC. The old man already had chains and ropes ready and wasted no time in tying the builder up tightly, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be happy when he awoke.
“Stress, you might wanna take a look at him, just to make sure he’s alright,” Jevin said, rolling his shoulders and slightly adjusting his armour, before chugging a bottle of milk. Somewhere in the fight, it seemed like he had gotten cut a few times, and he could already see some of the poison starting to spread, and he’d really rather not have to deal with that again. “In any case, I’m gonna get going again, plenty of spiders to slay.”
The ice queen simply nodded and got to work, already taking out the potions and the milk as Jevin launched himself into the air again, ready to take out some more of those spidery bastards.
Notes:
oh, look, we're getting somewhere again
Chapter 120: Arc 4 - 6
Summary:
The grass isn't greener on the other side. Flee, little birds.
Notes:
As a heads-up, there's descriptions of injuries throughout the chapter, though none of them graphic enough to warrant a proper TW, I think.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“You’re back, huh?” he groaned, watching the door to his cell open up once again through the little bit of his eyes that wasn’t swollen shut. Mentally, he was already preparing for whatever pain was to come, knowing fully well he wouldn’t be able to escape it. Well, technically there was a way to stop it, but his pride wouldn’t allow it. He would never surrender to his enemy, no matter what would happen. And if that meant he would hurt, then so be it.
Wels slowly blinked when it seemed like no one entered. Was it a trick? Some new, sick way to make him give in? A novel way to break him?
“I know you’re there,” he spoke, putting as much power and certainty as he could behind his words, which was to say, not a whole lot. “Just show yourself and get to the torture already. I have better things to do.”
The knight strained against his restraints, acutely aware of the various wounds and missing bits of him. His captor hadn’t been kind to him in the slightest, and Ren hadn’t either. There were burns and claw marks and traces of poison to prove so. The bruises and broken bones and missing teeth, fingers, and toes told the rest of the story.
“Wels, with all due respect, what other things?” a voice suddenly asked, one he recognised as Scar. The voice came from close by, almost as though whoever had spoken was in the room with him, and for the shortest moment, Wels thought he was finally going crazy from isolation.
“Oh, you know. Composing little songs about how much I hate your master. Sulking. Remembering that I’m not going to give in, no matter how much you try. The usual.” Somehow, he managed to get through his list without his voice wavering even once. He even managed a laugh, one fully without humour.
“How about escaping?” the voice asked, and Wels laughed again, louder this time.
“Do you really think I’m going to fall for that twice? How dumb do you think I am? Now, show yourself, Scar, or however you’re calling yourself these days.” He looked around, still not seeing anything, although he heard something going on in the background. A fight, it seemed. A large one. A larger one than should be possible with the amount of spider servants he knew should be there. Had help finally arrived, then? And was Scar’s presence there – if he even really was there – simply some kind of desperate attempt to get him to accept that mark?
Instead of Scar, though, another voice answered.
“I mean, we know you’re not dumb, but right now, you’re not using that brain of yours. We are here to get you out. Now, hold still, I’m going to get you out of those chains.” It sounded like Iskall, but that made him trust what was going on even less. After all, hadn’t Iskall been turned against them as well?
“No thanks,” he bit back. He struggled to move as much as he could, pain and suffering be damned. Chains rattled around him as he did so, proof that he was moving them, and a little bit of a smirk showed up on his face. If he could resist, if he could have tiny acts of opposition, he’d do so in a heartbeat, if only to prove to himself that he was still fighting.
And yet, he stilled when a gentle hand took his wrist, holding it in place with just enough force. Not squeezing, not with nails digging into his skin, just holding and pressing it in the right direction softly. For some reason, the gentleness of it all made tears well up in his eyes. Tears that dripped down, onto his cheeks, before being wiped away by the soft pad of a thumb.
“Oh, Wels… What did they do to you?” Iskall asked, so worried, so sad. A pickaxe appeared in his field of vision, and Wels shuddered, fearful that this moment of tenderness would end with the tool sinking into his skin or smashing up his hand. Instead, though, it got to work on the chains holding him in place, breaking them shackle by shackle. And Wels just cried, cried in relief, knowing he didn’t have to be strong anymore.
Meanwhile, another set of hands went over his injuries, taking stock of the severity of them before he could see a bottle of a pink sparkling liquid coming into view.
“Here, drink this, it’ll make you feel better. It’s a health potion,” Scar said, uncorking the bottle before raising it to the knight’s lips. He didn’t force him to drink, though, only tipping it up once Wels nodded. He could feel the effect of the potion spreading like the warmth of a hug, and he felt how some of his injuries started to slowly close. Not immediately, not completely, but he was healing again. A second bottle was raised, with white liquid this time, as the first quickly disappeared again.
“I have some milk for you as well, to counteract any poisons they put in you.”
“Please…” Wels just whispered, and Scar didn’t let him wait for it, instead helping him drink slowly. Whatever bits of poison had still remained in his system cleared away, bits of pain neutralising slowly. It certainly took the edge off, although there were still many other points in his body that were hurting badly. He let out a shuddering sigh as he felt his hand being dropped to his side, before someone shifted around, taking his other wrist in a hand before starting to hack away at the next set of chains. When he finished the bottle, a third one was raised, slightly more purple.
“Last but not least, this is a regen potion, I think you can use that as well.” Another nod, and Wels drank deeply, feeling how energy returned to him, how much more normal he felt. Not quite up to standard, not yet, but it definitely helped. He leaned back against the wall, enjoying being able to move properly again, enjoying being able to relieve some of the pressure from his feet.
“Now… Now what?” he asked, straining his neck slightly to look out of the door. He couldn’t see anything of note, not really. He had already figured out where he was earlier, at other times when people had entered, and he couldn’t exactly see anyone moving in the background. Meanwhile, Iskall was done with his second wrist, and had now moved to the few chains keeping his feet in place. He took care of one of them, while Scar worked on the other, obviously trying to get through them as fast as they could manage.
“We take you and Mumbo to the outside of the volcano, and get you two to freedom. One of us – either Scar, Cleo, or me – will stay behind to get X out as well, while the others distract Arachne, back on the other side of the volcano. We got boats ready, and some more potions as well. Everything is thought of, so no worries on that front, okay?” Iskall spoke up, still invisible where he sat. It was a smart move, that invisibility, but Wels saw one glaring issue with it.
“More invis as well? Given that I’m… Well. Visible.”
“Oh, yeah, we sure do! We got splash potions, to really get the most out of them. Once we get you free, I’m splashin’ it, and then we just run. Or like, move at the fastest pace you can handle in your current state.” Scar responded this time, briefly stopping his attempts of getting through his chains before going on again.
“I see…” Wels muttered, sticking out his hands in front of him to check out the damage. Both his middle fingers were gone – removed because he apparently used them too much - as were the pinky and ring finger from his right hand, and the thumb on the left. Where they had gone, he didn’t quite know, all he knew was that it was definitely going to take a respawn to fix. Until then… He wasn’t sure whether he’d be of much use in combat, which was slightly problematic. Optimally, the knight would want to at the very least be able to defend himself, but as things were, he doubted he’d be able to properly hold a sword. Bows would be difficult as well, but maybe a crossbow would be a possibility. Then again, holding was not the only thing he needed to be able to do. He’d need to be able to lift it, to move it, to turn it, and given the fact that he was relatively sure some of the bones in his arms were not entirely whole anymore, which made everything a whole lot more difficult.
Still, if he had to believe Iskall, he wouldn’t even come near any fights. He just hoped that it would turn out that way.
It didn’t take much longer before the last of the chains fell down, and Wels cautiously set a few steps, trying to feel what was going on. His legs were most definitely not cooperating with him, and every step hurt, but he could stand, and he could move, and that was enough. The actual proper healing would come later, right now he just needed to get out.
“Alright, ready for the potion?” Scar asked, holding up another bottle in one hand, and a blue mask in another. The knight simply set another little step before nodding, and the bottle smashed open on the ground. Particles swirled out from it, before he felt the familiar feeling of the potion taking effect.
“Let’s go!” the landscaper whispered, and the trio started to make their way out of the cell.
Then, the relative silence of the cave was broken by a scream, followed by another one, and then another one, and they could see smoke swirl around before forming into the bodies of Cleo and Joe, respawning to the side, in front of a large web near the wall. They looked shocked to say the least, scrambling to their feet as they moved away from it, running towards where the trio was.
Wels instinctively set a few more paces forward, trying to get a look at whatever they were running from, but found himself immediately moving back again, out of sight, when he spotted the large figure of a spider with a more humanoid upper body standing there, the glow of various holograms hanging in the air around them as they moved their hands. He disliked it, he disliked all of it, but there was very little that he could do to stop it, and quite frankly? He just wanted to get out. He wanted to get out of there, he wanted to rest, he wanted to heal up and put on clean clothes and eat decent food and feel the sun on his face, and he’d be doing none of that if he stayed.
“Joe! Cleo! Over here!” Scar hissed, and the duo slightly changed their course before halting right in front of them, looking over their shoulders every now and then.
“What happened?” Iskall asked, his voice low as he followed their gaze. Then he stilled. “Oh…”
“Yeah. I think you get the gist.” Cleo balled her hands into fists. “I should’ve… I shouldn’t have gone, but- Well. I saw what they did to Joe, and I just- Yeah. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t let it happen, you know.” She sighed, and the poet patted her on her shoulder.
“For your worries I’m forever glad, but please, next time… Let your feelings be, and don’t get mad. Now, how do we proceed from here? What’s the plan, how do we continue without our gear?” he spoke a little bit more rushed than normal, looking over his shoulder as he spoke, obviously not happy with the whole situation. Wels could definitely get that. Standing in an enemy base, moments after respawning, with nothing to your name except maybe a communicator… He had been there. Back then there hadn’t been quite as much immediate danger, though.
“Well, we got Wels out at the very least, and if I’m correct, I think Mumbo is hiding over there, behind that rock, so this wasn’t entirely pointless. We should get them out as soon as we can,” Scar spoke again, still on the quiet side. “One of us – or maybe two, even – should stay here to get Xisuma out as well. Joe, I know you’re on aerial, but without elytra, things are gonna be difficult, so I’d say you and Cleo handle extraction? And maybe let Stress know what happened, she’s probably stressin’ as always, pun intended.” He chuckled softly at his own joke, and even Wels found himself smiling slightly.
Just for a moment, though.
A pulse of green spread out from more or less where he had seen Arachne sitting, washing over everything. And when it touched their little group, the invisibility faded away. For the first time, he could see Scar and Iskall properly, green lines still visible on their skin, though they were partially faded already. Their eyes didn’t glow green either, which really put him at ease, but even then… He had a nasty feeling in his gut. One that screamed of danger and betrayal, one that screamed he needed to watch out for them, even if they just saved him.
It almost felt like seconds later that both of them turned towards the centre of the volcano, their eyes starting to glow in a manifestation of his deepest fears. Iskall and Scar were shaking, seemingly fighting against something, and Scar somehow managed to move his arms, putting the mask – the knight only now realised it was a Vex mask – to his face, eyes switching from green to an almost hellish blue, before quickly fastening the ribbon that would keep it in place.
“Go. Flee. Now!” he brought out, quickly grabbing a sword from his inventory. Just in time to block a blow from the axe Iskall had seemingly taken. The swede was ruthlessly attacking now, and for a short moment, Wels didn’t know what to do. He had no weapons, no armour, nothing. And yet… He knew he had to do something. There had to be some way in which he could help. Some way to get Iskall back to his senses, or at the very least to be an inconvenience to him so he couldn’t kill Scar.
Wels took a deep breath, before letting his muscle memory, training, and instincts kick in. Sure, he had no weapons, but there were still other ways to take someone down. He ran, letting adrenaline fuel his charge, pressing the pain with every step as far to the background as he could. After all, he was certain dying would be more painful than his leg, and once Iskall was done with Scar… Well. He’d have four easy, armourless targets standing around him.
Before him, the sword and axe clashed against each other, the swede slowly winning ground.
“Scar! Push him!” Wels called out as he came close enough, dropping to the ground behind Iskall, arms and knees tucked under him, hands protecting his neck and head. Above him, he could hear a bit of a scuffle, and then a weight pushing against him before falling over him, hitting the ground with a dull thud. The knight let out a groan of pain as some of his wounds sent spikes of white-hot agony coursing through him, but he got moving either way, knowing he had to make use of the short moment of surprise while it lasted. Scar seemed to have realised the same thing, already running up and throwing himself on top of Iskall in order to keep him down. It gave Wels the chance to start and try wrestling the axe out of the swede’s hands, little by little, or at the very least to keep it from doing harm.
Then suddenly, Joe was there as well, adding his strength to that of Wels as he spoke to Iskall in hushed tones, weaving a poem that told of the Hermits, of not giving up, and of staying true to yourself. He was putting a gentle power behind his words, talking on and on and on as the swede’s grip loosened, and his struggling stopped. Instead, he moved his hand, accessing his inventory, and a bottle of milk appeared in his hands. Wels blinked in confusion, not entirely sure of what was going on anymore.
“Iskall?” Scar panted, not moving just yet. “Are you back, buddy?”
The response was a simple groan.
“Think so…? Still feel it, though,” came a weak response, and he tried lifting his arm to drink his milk. “Scar, can I-“
“Oh, yeah, of course! Sorry ‘bout that.”
The landscaper shifted away, and Wels sat back as well, feeling how the adrenaline slowly left his system. In return, he felt the pain of just about every wound on his body, every broken bone that was screaming for attention. He was sore all over, realising only now that he was panting just as hard as Iskall and Scar were.
“What- What was that? What just happened there?” he asked, half out of breath.
“Yeah, I’d like to know too. Can we get an explanation, from either of you?” Joe crossed his arms, lines of worry on his face as the swede sat up, downing his milk in one go.
“That spider bastard…” he just muttered, squinting his eyes together before shaking his head. “Sorry, I- I lost control again. There was a command, and it just…” he trailed off, his gaze falling to the floor.
“It was overwhelming,” Scar finished for him. “Washed over us, filled every fibre of our being, drowning out our senses until the only thing we could think of, the only thing we could do was to obey. It’s that mark, I tell you. I’m lucky I had the Vex to ward it off, in a way lucky that I’ve been claimed before, but the others… I’m not sure if they’re ever gonna be truly free of it, as long as that spider lives.” He fell silent as a shudder went through him, and Wels couldn’t help but feel sorry for them both.
“That’s… That’s awful,” he just said, not knowing what else there was to say.
“Mmhmm…”
It was silent, then, save for the sounds of fighting in the background, and the howling wind outside. The knight was filled with thoughts, filled with regrets and worries and fears as he just sat there, letting his mind wander until Cleo’s voice pulled him back to the there and then.
“Guys? Not to interrupt your little circle of introspection or anything, but I need you all to get off your asses and run. Now!” She sounded slightly panicked, and as Wels looked up, he could see why. She was moving their way about as fast as she could while carrying Mumbo on her back, and behind her, Arachne came moving at them at quite a considerate speed.
They scrambled to their feet, Joe helping to pull them up, all plans forgotten as they simply ran.
Notes:
Things sure are in motion again, aren't they?
Chapter 121: Arc 4 - 7
Summary:
A light in the darkness. Take a stand against evil.
Notes:
TW for head trauma in the paragraph starting with "[name] has the braincell!"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The moment he had gotten the message, Cub had adjusted his course immediately, swapping out his bow for his torches. He barely even felt bad about no longer directly getting to help his friends beat the spiders, but at the same time… He would be tackling the problem at its source. And this problem, that was one he’d become almost an expert at.
Fixing Scar’s dark spots was something that was almost needed daily whenever they worked on a build together. The ConCorp headquarters, the ConCorp Country Club, and the many, many other projects they had undertaken together had taught him how to spot those dark spots by eye almost completely reliably, and when the brunt of those were taken care of, the rest of them easily revealed themselves at night, having large concentrations of mobs spawning there.
The volcano would be no different, and while he understood the reason why Scar had left it dark and moody, right now Cub couldn’t care less about what the landscaper would think, and even less about aesthetics. All that mattered was getting rid of the dark spots, and along with it, the spiders that spawned from them. After that was done, he'd figure out what to do next, but right there and then, he needed to focus.
Cub shot off a few rockets to get to the first of the spots he had seen from the air, one of the ones that were at the very least somewhat close to the rest of the Hermits. That felt like the right place to start just spamming down torches. At the very least that would take some of the pressure off of the ground teams while he could go on and target those areas of shadow further away from them.
It was easier said than done, though. One of the issues he had was the fact that there were a lot of spiders spawning in those very dark spots that he wanted to make safer, which in turn made it rather unsafe for him to do so. Still, as long as he was quick enough, Cub felt like he should be fine. After all, the shorter he was in the area, the less chance the spiders would have to actually attack him. And worst case, he could do it guerrilla style, just moving from place to place and striking wherever he felt like it was safest. Either that, or he'd just have to fight his way towards each of the dark spots. They weren't spawners, after all, and as long as he was close enough to those places touched by shadow, spiders wouldn't just appear there. That was the theory, at the very least. He didn't know whether Arachne had done anything to mess with that bit of logic, but the capitalist wasn't quite aching to find that out.
And so, he started his own private little offence. He dove in from high, putting down as many torches as he could before pulling up again, and hoping it would be enough. Then he'd regain some height, finding the next spot in the meanwhile, before diving down again. It almost felt like a rollercoaster, really, the constant movements and ups and downs, and at one point even a barrel roll in order to dodge out of the way of a spider. Despite that, though, he steadily made progress. Bit by bit, he lit up those bits of ground that hadn't seen the light before, and bit by bit, he had the feeling that the number of spiders lessened.
Still, there was a lot to go. In true Scar-build fashion, the volcano had plenty of ledges, and plenty of little nooks and crannies that were hard to reach, even with an elytra. And if Cub wanted to make sure that the cavern was safe, he'd have to somehow get to them, light them up, and get to the next one, on and on and on until everything was bathed in light. Had it been sunny outside, it would have been tempting to just go ahead and mine some holes in the roof, but given that the sky outside was almost black with clouds, occasionally lighting up as lightning struck... Well. It would barely make a difference, and as such, his time was better spent.
Place after place after place, dark spot after dark spot, torch after torch, Cub just kept on going, trying to close himself off from any screams or shouts that came from down below. He only took a short moment to check his communicator when he felt it buzz twice, shortly after each other, but he quickly decided against it when he spotted death messages instead of messages from Stress or one of the other team leaders. Much as he wanted to take a moment to process things, Cub knew he didn't have the time for that kind of luxury. They needed him to keep going, to keep lighting things up until the steady stream of spiders had turned into a trickle, and then, only then, would he allow himself to do other things.
It took both longer and shorter than he had expected to get to that point, actually. Once he had gotten rid of the big spots, the amount of spawns had fallen dramatically, but before things really got good... Well. That took a bit longer. It helped to see it as some kind of minigame, though, and if anything, Cub was a bit of a completionist. He just wanted to ace it, wanted to get the best score. In better times, he might have even built a minigame based on the very concept of lighting up an area as you raced against time, but not then. Not at that moment. Not when that kind of thing could actually make the difference between life and death, between winning their world back and losing it all to some megalomaniacal spider on steroids. And so, he kept on going, bringing light to the darkness until he ran out of torches.
It was a bit of a bummer when it happened, but as Cub looked around, he could definitely see that he had done well enough. Certainly, there were still spiders appearing here and there, but no longer in the kind of volume from earlier. They'd be easy enough to deal with, now. It was fine. It would all be fine. And in the worst case, he'd just go to TFC or Python to wrangle some more torches out of them.
For now, though, he was going to go and get out his bow again, ready to shoot some more of the spiders that were still there from the safety of the air.
That was his plan, at the very least, until his eye fell on Arachne again for the first time in a bit. He hadn't even noticed they had gone off to somewhere, but now that they were out again... He could see them looking around, before they started to move in on the water team, which was apparently having its own issues at that moment. Still, he was not going to go and just let that spider go ahead and attack them, not on his watch. Cub turned again, setting his course in such a way that he'd be going straight for them, and nocked an arrow, before letting it fly.
Much to his dismay, it simply ricocheted off of their carapace, and they just kept on going. Cub saw Cleo and Mumbo running away from them, at that point, and moments later the rest stood up as well, starting to move. Too slow, though. Way too slow. From the air, he could most definitely see how the spider was gaining on them, catching up quicker than he would want them to. Cub ground his teeth together, not really wanting to get closer, but at the same time knowing that the water team was going to need a distraction if they were going to be getting out of there alive.
And just like that, he fired off another rocket, changing his course as he flew in, ready to rescue his friends. He fired off arrows one after the other, some going wide, some not managing to get through their carapace, but eventually, eventually he managed to get one to actually do some damage.
A screech echoed through the volcano as they stopped and turned, looking for whoever shot the arrow, before locking eyes with him. It felt... Wrong. There was hatred there, an intent to kill that would have definitely made him stumble if he were walking. Still, Cub didn't let it throw him off all too much. He was distracting them, which was exactly what he had planned to do. With shaking hands, he put another arrow on his bow, aiming and firing it off.
This time, though, their hand shot up, catching the projectile before it could hit them. Then they simply snapped it in twain, letting both parts fall to the ground before pointing at him.
"I will get you for that, little fly. Just you wait." Then they turned again, but instead of going after the water team, this time they headed straight for the outer wall of the volcano, climbing up on the steep incline as though it was nothing. They were at the very least part spider, after all.
Cub knew that he was going to have to pay a lot more attention on where he was going to be flying from that point forth. Earlier it had simply been safe, but right now... No. There was a significant enemy on the walls now, with enough reach to grab him if he came anywhere near them, and that was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. Still, he was going to need to at the very least keep them interested enough in trying to hurt him that they wouldn’t go after others. Until the water team had gotten to safety, that was. After that… Well. He’d cross that bridge when he’d get there.
---
Down on the ground, the fight had gotten a whole lot more bearable now that there were less enemies to worry about. Certainly, there was still Ren that was a problem, but with just Ren and the occasional spider? That was doable. That was more than doable, even when it was basically just team ZITX, Keralis, and Jevin holding the line while Biffa, Doc, and False fought their way deeper into the volcano, to clear a path for the others. It was more than enough, though, the six of them.
The two from the aerial team worked together to fend off the spiders, while the ground team worked to take Ren down. It was not easy, not with how feral he had gone, but it was four against one, and those were odds that were most definitely in their favour. Still, none of them was about to tempt fate, not right there.
As such, they fought. Impulse found himself circling around Ren together with Evil X, the two of them trying to flank him while Zedaph and Tango kept him busy on the other side. They didn’t immediately run around, instead moving only when the tide of the battle allowed it, but that was fine. They had some time, and in the end, moving carefully and calculatedly rather than abruptly would be the safer of the two options. Especially with Ren clawing around him at basically everything that dared move.
Thank the Void for shields…
Impulse hid behind his shield as Ren suddenly realised there were more enemies on his other side, now, letting the claws rain down and dig themselves in while Zed and Tango came up closer, with Zedaph actually jumping straight onto Ren’s back, wrapping his arms tightly around the upper body of the wolfman in a parody of a hug. At the same time, the demon grabbed a lead from his inventory, lassoing it around one of Ren’s wrists and pulling it back.
Needless to say, he seemed unamused by this turn of events, growling deeply as he tried to shake Zedaph off, clawing at whichever part of him he could reach. That was Impulse’s cue to try his hand at tossing a lead as well, and luckily it managed to catch Ren’s other wrist first try. Together with Tango, they pulled his arms to the side until they wouldn’t go anymore, leaving Ren snarling and wiggling and trying to break free. Zedaph, in the meanwhile, just kept hanging on, talking softly to Ren and trying to calm him down, trying to get him back to normal.
It didn’t seem to have a whole lot of effect, though, judging by the growl and the attempts at biting his face off, but that didn’t stop Zed from trying anyway.
“So now what?” Impulse called out, and Tango shrugged, yanking at his lead as Ren once again tried to get out.
“I don’t know, man, I didn’t think this far ahead! I didn’t even think it would work to begin with!”
“What?!” The trader just squinted.
“Hey, don’t blame me! I lost custody of the communal braincell after the wildfire incident, alright?” Tango dug his heels a little deeper into the ground as Ren pulled again, straining with the effort.
“I don’t have it either!” Zedaph chimed in, before just going on with what he had been doing before.
“We know, Zed!” Tango and Impulse called out at the same time, before making eye contact with each other.
“Seems like its up to you, mister smartypants,” the demon simply shrugged. “Well?”
Impulse closed his eyes and tried to think of something. Obviously they wouldn’t be able to undo whatever Arachne had done, not fast enough at the very least, so they were going to have to make sure he wouldn’t be able to harm anyone in another kind of way. Killing him was out of the question, and given that they already had leads around his arms, it was probably best to just tie him up. The problem was how. They needed to make sure he wouldn’t be able to claw at either them or the leads while they worked, and that was a challenge.
Mittens, then? Can we put him in gloves? Do we even have gloves with us?
“Guys. Literally just knock him out, then tie him up and put him with Stress for safekeeping,” Evil X remarked dryly as he sliced up a spider that had been trying to sneak up on them.
“Xanota has the braincell!” Zed cheerily called out, before knocking the pommel of his sword against Ren’s helmet until the wolfman fell to the ground. Zedaph managed to jump off of his back just in time to not fall along with him, landing on the ground next to the now prone form.
“See? Not that difficult.” Ex moved over a bit, taking care of another spider while Tango and Impulse moved in, and started to indeed tie Ren up. They used the leads at first, but then quickly switched to chains when they realised just how much damage Ren had already done to the leather, nearly tearing it through in a few places.
All the while, Zedaph and Ex just kind of stood there awkwardly, fighting off the occasional spider but that was about it. Both of them were itching to get going again, Evil X more than Zed. His eyes wandered around, scanning the cave for signs of his brother. Of course, he had noticed the fact that Arachne was on the ceiling now, fighting against Cub, which meant there was a good opening to retrieve his brother. All he had to do was figure out where he was, and Evil X had a good idea of where to start looking. He simply wasn’t sure of how long he had left to do so. In his mind, he made a decision. A difficult one.
“Zed, stay here. I’m gonna go get my brother.”
Then, without waiting for answer, he ran off, towards the centre of the volcano.
Notes:
do you ever just kinda realise that you've been writing with very little regard for your planned plotline? yeah, that was the last two chapters. i think im back on track again now tho, so wheeeeee
Chapter 122: Arc 4 - 8
Summary:
Grievances spoken, bonds broken.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
He ran on and on, dodging out of the way of spiders and jumping over the various small gaps in the actual flooring. He didn't care for his own safety all too much, at that point, a lot less than he cared for his brother. After all, the only one that got to hurt Xisuma was him, not some evil overlord wannabe that had just popped up from nowhere. Evil X wouldn't stand for that, not in the slightest. He kept on running, uncaring for the way multiple Hermits called after him, moving out of their way so they couldn't grab him and stop him. None of them understood, after all. This wasn't just trying to save their world, this was more personal than that, didn't they get that? If anyone was going to save his brother, it would be him.
Once he got past Biffa, Doc, and False, things started becoming more difficult. While Biffa had been clearing a path, the area in front of him was still quite filled with spiders, and simply dodging out of their way was no longer possible. And so, he took out his sword and shield, hacking and slashing and stabbing as he made his own way. He didn't care about the fact that his arms were burning with exertion, or the fact that some of the spiders actually managed to slip past his shield every now and then, he was powered by rage and a deep desire to get this done.
On and on and on he went until he actually managed to get to the centre, taking a little bit of time in order to actually make sure he was still good to go on. While he knew the smaller spiders would not be enough to stop him, there was always still Arachne lurking somewhere, and that was the one creature he simply knew he couldn't beat. He was just going to have to hope everything was going to be alright, that Cub was distracting them well enough that Evil X could do whatever he needed to do. A quick look up at the ceiling confirmed that hope, and he moved on, finding the spot he was interested in.
Right there and then, it seemed like he needed to break through a door of sorts somehow, a door that was well-hidden in the surrounding rock. Not well enough, though, and a small moment later, Ex had a pickaxe in his hand, ready to just hack the thing to pieces. He was relatively sure that he had Arachne seen leaving that very door, but he couldn't hear any noise coming from inside, which worried him a tiny bit.
"Xisuma? Are you in there?" he called out, and when no answer came, he still went and just started to take the door down, if only to vent some frustration. Still, when the thing started chipping and breaking, and the light managed to make its way in, he could see in.
And his brother was there, covered in blood, wrapped in metal. That wasn't the thing that enraged him, though. No, the thing that enraged him were the lines of green on his brother's skin, the symbol of a spider that was visible through the cuts and tears in his shirt.
How dare they mark him as theirs?! He is mine, and mine alone...
He doubled his efforts to get through the door, which didn't really hold up a lot longer. It splintered further and further, until he could just break it apart with a well-aimed kick. Planks and bits of rock scattered to the ground, and Evil X walked in, getting closer to his brother. Now that there was no longer a door in the way, he could see what was going on a little bit clearer. There was blood absolutely everywhere, but mostly on the metal straps that held his brother down, spikes biting into his flesh. He could see the way Xisuma's hands and feet had been locked into the walls and floor, surrounded by seamless stone, making him wonder how they had gotten him in there to begin with. Still, whatever tricks had been used to trap him, Evil X was not about to let those stop him. Not when his own kind of vengeance was this close.
If he wanted, he knew he could just kill his brother right there and then, but it very much seemed like he was out cold, and killing wasn’t what he was after. No, Evil X wanted to ban him, just hardban him into That Place that he himself had been stuck in for so long. Before that, though, he was going to need to make sure his brother was at the very least himself enough to realise what was going on.
For a short moment, he considered slapping him in his face a few times to wake him up, but ultimately, he decided against doing so. It was probably a whole lot nicer to break him out without having to listen to whatever pathetic nonsense he’d be sprouting, gag or not. Without a second thought, Ex started breaking the stone around Xisuma’s hands, just swinging his pickaxe as fast as he could to get it done quicker. Whether it hurt his brother or not was of no interest to him, all he cared about was getting him out of there so he could get his revenge quicker.
That being said, though, a singular thought shot through his mind as he mined on. What would his new friends think of him, if he took their precious admin away from them? Evil X didn't actually want to think about it, too worried that the answer might be something that hurt him, but his mind wandered anyway. He wanted to punish his brother for what he had done to him, but at the same time, he desperately didn't want to lose those few friends he had finally managed to make. Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango... They had taken him in almost without a second thought, and while it had only been a few days since he had properly gotten to know them, they felt so much closer than anyone had ever been to him.
It wasn't like the bond between siblings, no, it was something different, something he had never really had. Certainly, what he had had with Wormman came close, but then again... Those times they were together had always been sporadic moments, none a lot longer than an hour. With team ZIT, though, he had spent the majority of those days, and they had spent them risking their lives together, fighting together, trusting each other.
Evil X stilled when he realised he didn't want to lose that, that that desire was a lot stronger than the feeling of wanting to let Xisuma know what pain and suffering he had caused.
It was... Different, to think that way. To think that there were perhaps more important things in the world than his vengeance, that perhaps he had to let that go if he wanted to be actually happy.
The realisation crashed over him like a tidal wave of emotions, breaking his resolve.
What am I even doing with my life? Why am I allowing him to keep such a grip on me, on what I do? Why can't I just... Be happy? Be me? No longer defined by who he is, but just... Me?
Xanota swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions down and failing spectacularly. He felt how his cheeks grew wet, unable to wipe away the silent tears that dripped down behind his visor. His hands shook, and for a moment, he looked over at his brother. It seemed like Xisuma was still out, but how long for, that was the question. At the very least it seemed like he had started stirring, making small sounds, whimpers and groans, his body moving slightly. Still, his eyes remained shut, his breathing remained somewhat calm.
"Why, you... Why?" he found himself muttering. "Did you know this would happen? That all it would take was just meeting the Hermits, really meeting them, to make me change my mind about you? I didn't... I didn't care what others would think, initially, but- No. No longer."
With a laboured sigh, he continued on smashing the stone into bits, letting them clatter to the ground until he could properly get out his brother's hands. They were already bruising up with the way the stone must have carried on the power behind the pickaxe, the skin around his wrists partially chafed open, but Xanota didn't spend too long looking at it all, knowing he still had a job to do.
Him growing weak didn't mean his enemies had, and there was no way to tell how long he was still free to do what he was doing. And so, he just kept on going, hacking away at the floor in order to get Xisuma's feet out, and then on with the various points where the metal bands had been driven into the rock.
Where his brother had been stirring before, his eyes shot open now, his body shooting up as far as the bonds would allow, before a pitiful whine of pain came from under his gag. He looked around, searching for something, scared of something, and when Xanota's eyes met his brother's, everything seemed to stop for a moment. Then Xisuma's eyes widened in shock, trying to say something, an incredulous look on his face.
"Hello, brother of mine. Long time no see." Xanota spoke, before continuing on with what he had been doing. Whatever Xisuma wanted to say to him, he didn't quite care, not enough to take the gag off, instead enjoying not having to hear his brother’s voice a little bit longer. Still, Xisuma refused to stay silent. He tried talking around his gag, motioning towards it as though begging him to take it off.
"No, I like it better like this, when you're quiet. Do you know how that is? To have to stay quiet, no matter how much you want to talk, to say something, anything? To be silenced by someone you thought you were close to?" A humourless chuckle rolled over his lips. "No, of course you wouldn't, and why would you? You were always the one doing the talking, weren't you? Always talking, on and on, not spending a moment listening. Not even to your own brother."
Xisuma gave him a look, one holding a mixture of confusion, guilt, and something else, fear perhaps?
"Now, though, now you can't do anything else than listen. So listen to me, for once, okay?" Xanota sighed for a moment, before pulling away one of the metal bands, taking the spikes out of Xisuma's skin without warning. In return, his brother hissed in pain, but he just shrugged, putting the metal down on the ground.
"Whoops. In any case. Do you know what you've put me through? What torture it is to be hardbanned?" He squinted, closely judging Xisuma's reaction. The other man simply looked uncomfortably at him, before looking to the side, so he didn't have to look at him.
"Oh, no, no, no, you don't. You don't get to look away from the consequences of your actions, brother," Xanota spoke, halting his mining and grabbing his brother by the chin, turning him towards him. "Look at me. Look at me, and don't you dare close your eyes. Have you ever been there, in That Place? Where you go when you are banned, with no other place to go? Have you? Well, let me tell you how it is. There is nothing there, absolutely nothing, not even you. You can't touch anything, you can't influence anything, you're just trapped there, trapped with your own thoughts, forced to just think, forced to just observe, while the very fabric of creation unravels around you. There are things there, things that move and shift and pretend to be real things, things you might miss, but there's absolutely nothing you can do to actually get to them. And sometimes, sometimes it gets dark, so dark for a bit, leaving you to think that surely everything must have ended, but not you." His tone was not a pleasant one, and Xanota let some of the remaining hatred he felt flow out, almost growling his words as he continued on freeing Xisuma.
His brother, on his turn, did exactly as he asked of him, not looking away. He just looked more and more guilty as Xanota went on, his violet eyes overtaken with a glimmer of green every now and then. Xanota didn't see it, though.
"Do you need me to tell you how much I hated being there? How long I absolutely loathed you, swearing to everything that would listen and everything that wouldn't that I would get my revenge? How long I had to go over everything I had ever done wrong, with nothing to distract me from spiralling out of control? I don't think you do. I think you knew very well how long it was, how long you trapped me there, how long you kept me there, away from everyone and everything, tucked away out of sight as though you were embarrassed about my mere existence. Me, your own brother.”
Another chuckle left his mouth, just as humourless as the one before. Then he was silent for a bit, just focussed on breaking more stone, on doing what was needed. Xisuma whined in protest, trying to say something, maybe even to apologise, but there was no way for him to get that sentiment across. It took a few moments, and then he was just silent again, laying back in his bonds, eyes still aimed at Xanota.
“I thought about killing you, you know?” he spoke after about a minute. “Just killing you, keeping you in a death loop until whatever feelings of anger I had were satisfied. And then I would ban you, to let you feel that same panic and helplessness that I felt. After all, I thought that that was what it would take for me to feel anywhere near good again." Xanota scoffed, his eyes wandering down to check his progress before pulling away the next few metal bands from his brother, who looked positively scared now, more and more green flickering in his eyes.
"I was wrong, though. I know that much, now. Hatred and anger... Yes, they will sustain you, for a little bit, but after that... They start eating you up from the inside, consuming you, and I don't want that. Not anymore." A sigh rolled over his lips as he tried to figure out what to say next. The fact that he wasn't looking for revenge anymore didn't mean he suddenly liked his brother again, but what to do about it, that was the big question. In silence, he pulled away another of the bands, the one over Xisuma's chest this time. Along with it came bits of stone, that had apparently formed on top of his chest, before delving in deeper. There was no blood, though, when the stone came away. It was as though the wound had healed around it, for some reason.
Xisuma let out a noise of pain again, making Xanota look up, really looking at his brother again. It was only then that he noticed the shifting colour of his eyes, the glow that flared up and came back down again. It was a glow he recognised, a glow he had also seen in Ren's eyes, and Grian's eyes, and even Biffa's eyes, for a short moment.
"Wait. Xisuma, are you still with me? Are you still... You?" he asked before he knew it, and for a dreadful second, his brother remained quiet. Then he nodded, before looking away, and shrugging as best as he could.
Xanota couldn't help but letting out a growl, almost possessive. No one messed with his brother except for him.
"Well, you better start being yourself again real quick. I'm not letting you just fade away and turn sides." Only now did he place his fingers over the gag of web, peeling it away from the top, tearing through it where needed. He could see emotions racing over his brother's face, fear and guilt and resolve and hope and sadness, and when the gag fell to the ground, Xisuma licked his lips, clearing his throat before speaking up.
"Evil X, I'm-"
"No. That's not my name." Xanota cut him off before he could get any further, simply refusing to hear whatever Xisuma had to say as long as he couldn't even be bothered to use his proper name. The other man sighed a sad sigh, almost as though he was trying to let out the weight of the world in a single breath.
"Xanota, then. I'm sorry. I just- I'm sorry," Xisuma croaked, his voice hoarse and near broken. He looked so sad, but at the very least the green flashes in his eyes were starting to diminish again, as though he was fighting something back. "I shouldn't have... I didn't know- I-I never..."
He didn't cry, though. There were no tears on his face, no sobs, and before him, Xanota could only see a broken man.
"Spare me your apologies until we get out of here. After this is over... I want a proper apology, and I want you to mean it."
Xisuma remained quiet for a moment, while Xanota just started hacking away again, mining away at the last few bonds.
"I can do that," he then simply said, his voice quiet now as he laid down once more, his hands restlessly moving around, feeling the textures he could reach, moving them for the first time in days. Xisuma's breath hitched in his throat as his muscles protested, but kept going anyway.
"How is everyone? Who... Who died? I know there were two, but- I don't know who, they didn’t tell me." His brother was staring up at the ceiling, evading his eyes, and it felt like he asked not because he was curious, but because he was afraid.
"Joe, I think. Joe and Cleo." Xanota was a tad confused why it would matter, not sure of what it was that made a shudder course through Xisuma as tears filled his eyes.
"I... I see," his brother whispered, his voice strained. “They are… They were some of my oldest friends, did you know that? And now… N-now they’re g-gone…” His voice broke, a sob tearing through his body.
“What the hell are you on about? They’re fine! Have you forgotten how respawning works, or…?” Xanota asked a bit briskly, pairing it with pulling away the two bands holding an arm down. Xisuma yelped in pain as he did so, before blinking away tears, looking at him with confusion in his eyes.
“B-but Arachne s-said-“
“And you trusted them? Didn’t you for one moment think they might have been lying? You’re an idiot, Xisuma.” He rolled his eyes, before moving around him, to get rid of the last few restraints. How dangerous had that spider thought his brother was, to justify immobilising him this fully? Xisuma, in the meanwhile, was silent, moving his free arm to wipe away his tears, as well as some of the sweat and blood on his face. Then he let his hand fall down, letting his fingers play with the fraying edge of his turtleneck.
“I-I g-guess I a-am, y-yeah…” He breathed in deeply, shuddering as his chest expanded further than it had for a few days. It was silent, then, aside from the sound of a pickaxe hitting rock and the muffled sounds of combat outside. Xanota just kept on going, pulling away the restraints the moment he could, freeing first Xisuma's other arm, and then his neck. His brother had managed to compose himself again, and instead of crying he was now just silently staring up, thinking about this thing or another. There was still the occasional flash of green in his eyes, but it came paired with a grimace, and a quick shake of his head, as though he was shaking whatever thoughts had triggered it out.
Finally, Xanota held out a hand for his brother, to help him up.
"Come on, then. Let's get you to your feet, and let's get out of here. Pretty sure the others will want to see you," he said, his face a mask of neutrality.
"Probably, yeah..." Xisuma muttered in response, grabbing the hand, and getting to his feet, wincing in pain as his muscles protested once more. "What about Arachne? Did you all...?"
"Kill them? Not yet. Damned bastard climbed up the walls, out of reach, sending in spiders to do their dirty work for them." Xanota wrapped an arm around his brother, letting him lean on him as they started moving outside. Just before the now-broken door, he halted, taking a second to look around outside before starting to walk once more, heading back towards where Stress was as quickly as he could. The coast seemed clear for now, no spiders in sight, but above him, he could hear the sounds of a fight, of a bow being fired and arrows clattering down.
"Hey, Ev- Xanota?" Xisuma suddenly spoke, his voice quiet. "I didn't say thanks yet, so uh... Thanks for saving me. Really, I mean it."
“You got your Hermits to thank for it, really,” he just responded. “They roped me in, after all.” He scoffed, looking forward to where the rest of the rescue party was. At least a few of them were pointing at him, at them, and he could hear some shouts he didn’t quite understand. Somehow, they didn’t look happy, though. More… Scared?
What’s there to be afraid of? Me? I thought we were over that.
Xanota simply waved at them, trying to comfort them, but stilled when he heard something behind him that made the hairs on his neck stand up straight.
“And where do you think you’re going, little fly?”
Notes:
oh, look, the brothers are back together again.
while it lasts, that is :D
Chapter 123: Arc 4 - 9
Summary:
The Sword of Damocles falls not on the ruler, but on the innocents.
Notes:
TW for graphic depictions of violence, gore, and death. Starts at "The leg went almost cleanly [...]", ends at "[name]’s heart broke, [...]". The death gets referred back to a few times after that.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Of course he held himself responsible for the fact Xanota had just run off. Of course he was beating himself up over it, as he tried to follow, but quickly realised he couldn’t just leave the rest of his team. Zedaph looked from the running form of Xanota to Tango and Impulse, still struggling to get Ren tied up. There was no way he was just going to leave them sitting there, but at the same time… He didn’t want to risk his new friend getting hurt, either.
“Guys, hurry up, please! We got a problem!” he called out, hopping from one leg to the other, ready to go. His eyes kept finding Xanota as he moved further and further away, around the core of the volcano and out of sight. Then his eyes found Arachne, fighting up high, seemingly not noticing what was going on below. Zed could only pray that things would turn out fine, that they would not be going after him.
“We’re trying, believe me!” Tango called back. “Could be done quicker if you helped out instead of just standing there!”
Zedaph balled his fist together and bit his lip, knowing damn well that the demon was right. It would be faster if he helped, but at the same time, he couldn’t move, he just found himself nailed to the ground in fear for his newest friend.
“I- I can’t, not right now!” he in the end responded, throwing a bit of a desperate look over at the others of his team, making eye contact with Impulse, who at the very least seemed to understand something was seriously wrong.
“Wow, Zed, where’s the fire, buddy? We’ll be right there, just a minute!”
How could he tell them he didn’t know if they had that minute? How could he tell them how afraid he was, how much his gut was screaming for him to move, for him to run, for him to help? How could he tell them he just knew that something bad was going to happen?
His nails dug deeper into his palms until he was relatively sure he was drawing blood, and he was shaking all over as he looked back to the volcano. Perhaps he was imagining it, but he felt like he could hear the sound of metal hitting stone, though it could also simply be the sounds of fighting. It was difficult to say, and Zedaph was just about to start walking again, when he saw movement on the other side of the volcano. People, running towards them as fast as they could, some armoured, some not, and it only took a moment for Zed to recognise them.
“The water team? But… That wasn’t the plan! Why are they…?” he mumbled to himself, taking a few more steps forward. It seemed he wasn’t the only one to notice, though, as Doc sprinted towards them, skewering spiders on his tridents as he went, clearing the path for them. For a moment, Zedaph looked around again, realising he had a choice to make.
Helping water team? Helping his own team? Helping his own team, but on another front? He was torn between the options, but the choice was made quickly once he realised that water team was dragging along two seemingly rather wounded people. Mumbo and Wels both looked horrible, one worse than the other, and the whole group looked scared as they ran, as though they were being chased by someone or something. There was no one in sight, though, and Zedaph was rather certain that Arachne was on the ceiling, so he wasn't entirely sure what was happening.
Still, there were wounded, and given that Tango and Impulse still needed a moment to do their work, and Keralis and Jevin were still there to protect them against the last few straggling spiders, he felt comfortable enough running up to water team to help out with carrying Mumbo and Wels over to Stress, so she could patch them up a little before they went outside, towards safety.
And so, Zedaph ran, putting away his shield but keeping up his sword for now. He moved past False and Biffa, after Doc, taking care of those spiders the cyborg had left dying along the path. In front of him, Doc was already lifting up Wels, carrying him bridal style in his arms, careful to not tear open any of the many wounds on his body. It seemed that the water team had finally stopped running, and Zedaph realised Joe was with them as well, with no armour to speak off, just stopping and panting as he reached a place that he deemed safe enough for it. It only took Zedaph a moment to realise what must have happened, recalling the buzzes his communicator had made earlier, but he decided not to comment on it. Instead, he went right up to Cleo, who was carrying Mumbo on her back.
"I'll take him from here, Cleo," he said, and she smiled a tired smile.
"Thank the Void. For a gangly bastard, Mumbo still starts weighing a lot when you have to carry him. No offence, Mumbo, just facts." She put him back on his legs carefully, and Zedaph was already there to offer him a piggyback back to safety. Unlike Doc, his arms weren't improved by cybernetics, and he had a feeling that if he tried to carry Mumbo in the same way the cyborg had been carrying Wels, his back wouldn't be the only thing he would be breaking. Luckily, Mumbo was at the very least able to get on Zedaph's back himself, which made the whole thing a lot easier, especially when Cleo offered a hand to help.
"Alright, alright, let's get you all back to safety, alright? Come now, before the spiders come back," Zedaph remarked, before he started moving. Cleo, Joe, Scar, and Iskall followed suit, the latter two staying a little bit further back in order to guard the rear. They moved quickly, but not with as much urgency as they had before, feeling safer now that they were closer to the rest once more. Especially when they moved back past False and Biffa, who immediately stepped in to block off the path for any pursuing spiders, Zedaph could feel Mumbo relaxing his grip around his shoulders, and he couldn't help but smile lightly.
"There we go, almost there, just a little bit further now. Just a little bit further."
Zedaph kept on going, over the stone bridges, past Jevin and Keralis, past Tango, Impulse, and Ren, all the way until he got to Stress, TFC, and Python. Doc was already there, still holding Wels in his arms as Stress talked to him in hushed tones, gently going over the wounds before pointing out a spot near the entrance to put him down for the moment. The cyborg nodded and did as he was asked while Zed walked up, putting Mumbo back on his own legs when they got to the ice queen.
"Got another one for you, Stress!" he spoke, wanting to smile but deciding it was probably not the best moment to go and do so.
"Ah! They got Mumbo out too, then? Good, good! Just X left, I fink we got this!" She nodded, before walking around the redstoner for a moment, looking him up and down. When she saw his back, Zedaph could hear her suck in a breath, and he was slightly worried as to what she had found.
"Oof, this is... This looks nasty, Mumbo, you poor fing. Wasn't enough to keep you locked up, huh? Well, not to worry, not to worry, doctor Stress is here for you!" She nodded to herself, and Zedaph saw her moving her hands, before they softly glowed up, the moisture in the air around them turning to cold clouds. Then she moved her hands over Mumbo's back, following some kind of pattern as she applied the cold. Zedaph could practically see the redstoner's knees buckle while she did so, and he was just in time to prevent him from falling on the ground, letting the taller man lean on him as much as he needed.
"Wow, there, big boy, just keep standing, you got this. Just a little longer," Zedaph murmured in his ear, and he heard the redstoner sighing.
"Mmm... I know, I know. This is... It's nice, is all..." he mumbled back, relishing in the touches.
"I'm not sure how much more I can do here, yeah? Besides some cooling to keep all of this from swelling up, that is. I fink the rest is going to have to heal naturally, or with the help of some potions a bit later, right?" Stress spoke, still cooling some of the wounds on his back.
Zedaph smiled gently as he patted Mumbo's hair, allowing him to just stand there and relax for just a little bit longer.
"Should I put him with Wels, in a bit? Or do you want him near Grian, for memory reasons?" Zed asked, but the words had barely left his mouth before he felt Mumbo tensing up in his arms. “Hey, hey, is everything alright?”
He took a look at the face of the other, following where his gaze was leading him. He had almost expected it, but nevertheless, he still felt a stab of pain when he found out Mumbo was looking at Grian, who was laying against a rock, wrapped in rope and chains, his eyes closed and his chest slowly moving up and down. The redstoner seemed scared of his best friend, so very scared, and Zedaph could only guess as to why.
“He’s out cold, don’t worry. We’ll get him back, believe me. For now, though, if you don’t want to be near him, I understand,” Zed muttered, his fingers softly petting the back of Mumbo’s head. The redstoner remained still for a little bit, before leaning into the touch, a sob racking through his body.
“He- They- He did t-this to m-me! M-most of it, a-a-anyway,” he cried, wet tears soaking into the edges of Zed’s shirt. “I t-tried to g-g-get him to s-st-stop, b-but I c-couldn’t snap h-him out of it, a-and-“ Breath stuttered in Mumbo’s throat as he inhaled, trying to calm down and failing miserably.
Then Stress was there, gently turning the redstoner away from Grian, taking his weight on herself as she embraced him, careful to not hurt him further.
“C’mere, luv, it’s alright, okay? You did all you could, and that’s enough, right? Now, now, let us take care o’ you, it’s over now, he won’t hurt you anymore. Let’s find you a spot, alright, luv? TFC and Python will watch over you, and I’ll be right here too if you need me,” she murmured, before leading Mumbo away, towards where Wels was. Zedaph could faintly hear her humming as she walked, and nodded to himself. That was one thing dealt with, and now for other things.
He turned around and almost ran into Tango and Impulse, who were dragging Ren between them. Ends of chain jangled against the stone, while some of the spikes in the wolfman’s armour ground over the floor with a shrill shriek. Zedaph stepped out of the way out of reflex, earning him a nod by Tango.
“Just put him near Grian, I guess?” Zed said, pointing in the general direction.
“Sounds about right. Give us a sec, then we’ll get to that other problem you mentioned. Actually, where’s Xanota?” Impulse asked as he kept on moving. Zed followed them, feeling some kind of panic forming in his system again.
“That’s the problem, actually! He ran off, towards the centre! Going to get his brother, he said.” He nervously looked over his shoulder, toward the general direction Xanota had run off to. There was movement there, now, and it didn’t take him long to actually recognise the two brothers, with the admin leaning heavily on Xanota. Zedaph almost sighed in relief, until he spotted more movement, this time on the walls above them. Arachne was scuttling down, evading arrows as they went, their eyes focussed on the brothers.
“X! WATCH OUT! BEHIND YOU!” Zed shouted out, pointing at where Arachne was and hoping it would get noticed. At the very least some of the other Hermits near him noticed, looking up before joining in shouting and pointing. Doc, False and Biffa started moving, as did Jevin and Zedaph, but Xanota seemingly didn’t understand the danger he was in, simply waving back.
Until he suddenly stood still, that was, before looking at Xisuma and starting to run, dragging his brother along.
Not fast enough, though, nowhere near fast enough. It felt like things happened in slow motion, from there on. Zedaph kept on running, his eyes on the two brothers as Arachne towered over them, lashing out with their claws, knocking Xisuma to the ground, causing Xanota to almost trip and fall as well. The latter slipped and turned, facing the spider as he stumbled to unsheathe his sword. Arachne went to lash out again, this time with one of their legs, seemingly planning on just skewering X on the sharp point of it.
Zedaph felt his gaze shifting towards Biffa, Doc, and False, almost there, almost there but not quite, before looking back, seeing how Xanota, his new friend, threw himself into the attack, shielding Xisuma with his own body.
The leg went almost cleanly through the first layer of diamond plating, then piercing through the mass of muscle and bone that was Xanota’s abdomen, and finally grinding to a halt after going through the second layer of diamond plating.
Time stood still as Arachne and Xanota stared at each other, before the latter looked down at the wound, then back up again. In a singular, smooth motion, the spider pulled back their leg, and blood gushed out of Xanota at a terrifying pace. He touched his hand to it, looking at his own blood before falling to his knees next to Xisuma, who was struggling to get back to his feet.
Zedaph felt his heart beating in his throat, a sinking feeling in his gut as he tried to run faster and faster still, pushing himself to his limits to just make it in time, knowing full well that he couldn’t.
Then Arachne laughed, a sinister combination of hisses and clicks echoing through the cavern, before their claws shot out, plunging into Xanota’s neck from two sides. His body went limp as Xisuma screamed, and half a second later, Xanota started to disintegrate, everything he had on him spilling out over the floor.
Zed’s heart broke, and his eyes subconsciously looked around, hoping with every fibre of his being that Xanota would just respawn somewhere in the cavern. He had to, right? Until then, everyone had respawned there, why should Xanota be any different? Even Joe and Cleo had showed up in the volcano again after dying, Xanota should too, right?
Then Biffa was there, finally, jumping between the admin and the spider, while Doc helped Xisuma up, with False holding up her shield to cover for them. Jevin landed next to them seconds later, starting to swing his sword at every bit of Arachne he could reach, distracting them even further.
And Zedaph kept running closer, more and more aware of Xanota’s absence every second. Panic clutched at his heart, and internally, Zed was screaming, berating himself for not going after him sooner. Of course, it was possible that Xanota had somehow found himself back in the bunker, waking up in one of the beds there, but deep down, Zedaph just knew that that wouldn’t be the case. After all, why would things go their way? Why would the universe suddenly decide to work in their favour?
He curled his fingers tighter around his sword and ran, a scream building inside of him. Zedaph sprinted past Xisuma and Doc, past False, even past Biffa before sliding onto the floor, sword raised above him in an attempt to cut into the softer tissue of Arachne’s underbelly.
Judging by the blueish liquid dripping down on him and the screeching that sounded, he had been successful in that. Arachne started to move, then, trying to get to him, and instead of remaining where he was in order to stab some more, Zedaph decided to get the hell out of there, crawling out from under them and getting to his feet.
Just in time, too. One of the spider’s legs came down hard where he had been laying just a second earlier, and he was quite certain he would have faced the same fate as Xanota had. Zedaph swallowed as he turned back to face Arachne. Their anger seemed to be on him, now, all others forgotten.
“You will regret that, little fly!” they hissed loudly, before charging his way, claws raised and ready to kill. It was all Zedaph could do to raise his shield and hoping that that was enough, bracing himself for impact.
Notes:
Y'all didn't need your hearts anyway, right?
also, as a side note, my writing doc hit 300k exactly on page 666 :D
edit: ao3 apparently counts words differently from word and I think that's homophobic :(
Chapter 124: Arc 4 - 10
Summary:
The beginning of the end?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The searing pain in their belly was completely new to them. They had been hurt before, their blood had even spilled before, but still, never at this scale. It slightly worried them, but most of all, it angered them.
How dare one of those flies step out of place and harm them? Did they not know their place? If they didn’t, they’d simply have to teach them, starting with the one that had wounded them. Arachne hissed their warning before charging at him, intending to rip his weak pathetic body to shreds. They wanted him dead, painfully so. And no shield or armour could stop their desire for vengeance, no matter how much that pathetic little fly pretended like it could.
At the very least he knew that he couldn’t outrun them.
Their claws raked across the shield, tearing it to splinters. The man behind it whimpered and moved further back, still clinging to the remains as though they were somehow going to save him.
There were shouts behind them as they lashed out again, bits of wood flying around as some of the planks in the shield just broke off entirely, leaving the man with just a few pieces still strapped to his arm. Arachne grinned, knowing not a whole lot more would be needed to end him. Behind them, people shouted in a panic, and they could feel several swords and arrows ricocheting off of their carapace.
They didn’t care, though. They had one goal and one goal only: To obliterate the man before them. Arachne raised their claws with a smirk, ready to let it drop.
Before they could, though, they could hear the high whistles of rockets being fired, and two people flew in front of them in a flash, grabbing the blond man and carrying him to safety. Arachne roared in annoyance, turning around toward the rest of those flies. It made them take a step back, but their shields and weapons were raised, and perhaps for the first time, Arachne realised they were properly outnumbered.
Their spiders were mostly dead, their numbers greatly reduced because of those damned torches. Their servants had managed to either get captured or to break free from their control, and those they had had in their web… Those had been broken out
If only I could mark them without their agreement… Why do Travellers have to be so difficult? Why can’t they be like villagers, easily swayed and taken advantage of? Why can’t I change them if they don’t agree to it? What makes them so important that the Universe itself protects them? I swear, one of these days I’ll figure out how to change that rule of reality, and I’ll make all Travellers kneel before me... Starting with those pesky Hermits…
Thinking about the future was not going to aid them in the present, though. There would be no future for them if they didn’t think of something, and quick. Arachne’s eyes darted across the scene around them, taking in what was happening. They hadn’t been surrounded, not yet, and the centre of the volcano was not too far to their side. It could be a way to win some time, to allow them to use some magic to heal and buff themselves. After that… Their eyes found the portal to their old lair, situated behind those little flies. If they could get through, it would be easy enough to block it behind them, and then they’d have all the time they needed to plan out a longer-term strategy. It all hinged on them being able to heal up, though. And without something to distract the flies, there was no way they’d just let them concentrate long enough to actually get their magic working.
Then their eyes fell on their former servants, still spread through the enemy ranks. The connection was still there, albeit slightly weaker than before, but that was fine. Of course, it would have been a lot better if they could crush the minds that seemingly had no idea how much better it would be to serve, until they followed their every order, but there simply was no time for that. Not unless they could either tear down every Void-damned safeguard those flies had in a single second, or they could make them fully accept it within an instant, a more complete acceptance than a superficial ‘yes’. Still, they could influence their little spiders, putting enough force behind a command to temporarily make them comply. It would definitely distract those flies, and any damage caused was a nice bonus.
Arachne focussed on the connections, reaching out for the marks they had placed, both new and old. One, two, little spiders that had remained loyal. Three, four, five, those that had rejected them but were still there. Six, the newest and by far the weakest link. They put power behind their words, power and every bit of authority they could muster.
“Kill them all.”
They felt their responses, some fighting harder against it than others, but Arachne just pushed until they could see their servants start moving. Weapons were wordlessly turned against the flies while further back those that had been captured started stirring, fighting against the restraints that were put on them. There were shouts, all of a sudden, and for a moment, the attention of the flies was off of Arachne.
That was the very moment they chose to start climbing up towards safety, finding cover between the rocks and ledges. They allowed themselves a single second to see whether it was safe enough, before they tapped into their Worldshaping magic, hissing and clicking and making hand motions to create the effects they were after as their focus on the rest of the world lessened.
Health washed over them first, at the very least making a start at stitching their wounds shut. Regeneration was next, continuing the healing albeit at a slightly slower pace. Then absorption wrapped around them, golden particles forming a protective shell. It was followed a few seconds later by resistance, blue particles mixing with the golden ones.
They could already feel how much energy it cost them to keep the effects up and going, but Arachne knew it was worth it. It had to be. They weren’t done either, knowing there was more they could do to increase their chances. They continued hissing until they felt strength seeping into their body, and they were about to go on with the next effect when they briefly felt a searing pain in their chest, before an arrow clattered to the ground.
Arachne’s eyes shot open, already seeing the strength of the particles decreasing as a trio of flying people aimed their bows straight at them, ready to fire again. It seemed like their moment of preparation had ended sooner than they had wanted, but at the very least they had managed to conjure up a few helpful effects. They were just going to have to move forward with their plans now.
A quick glance through the volcano taught them that their former servants had once again broken free from their grasp, while the other Worldshaper was just standing there, staring at them as he moved his hands and lips. His movements were pathetic and shaky, clearly untrained as well, and if he was doing what Arachne thought he was doing, he wouldn’t have enough time. They smirked as they started climbing down again, dodging out of the way of the arrows that came their way.
The flies shouted as Arachne came closer and closer with no sign of stopping, quickly moving into positions around their Worldshaper to protect him. He wasn’t their main priority, though. Instead, their eyes shifted towards the portal that would provide them a way out. Sure, it would be good if they could actually take him along, giving them more time to break him, but Arachne would rather live. They could always rebuild, after all, but they could not respawn. Not like those flies could. They had seen it before, back when they had taken down their predecessor. Gone was gone, there was nothing they could do to change that, despite having tried their best.
Arachne moved quickly, the swarm of particles still swirling around them. Arrows chased them as they ran, clattering to the ground in places where they had been just a split second before, and in some cases even ricocheting off of their carapace and the particles of resistance.
And then the flies on the ground started moving as well.
Some remained around the Worldshaper, while most of them came towards Arachne instead, raising shields and swords and tridents. The flies ran at them and started circling around them, as though they thought that that was going to stop them.
On the contrary. The spider raised their claws in return, and did not wait for their enemies to attack, lashing out quickly, trying to catch them at the very least a little bit off-guard. Shields creaked under their hands and splinters of wood flew through the air, and it didn’t take long before they could feel blood dripping down their hands. Who’s blood it was, they didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. Who screamed, who fell, who retreated, none of it mattered. They simply kept on fighting, carving their way towards their goal step by step.
The flies were shouting now, telling each other to reposition, to cover the flanks, to make sure they couldn’t get away, to circle around and to attack them in the back. To stall for time.
Pathetic. Don’t they know who they’re up against? Who in their right mind would tell their enemy what they were about to do? I thought I was at a disadvantage, but… this changes things.
Arachne couldn’t help but smirk as they redoubled their efforts to get to the portal. As long as they didn’t stop for too long, the other Worldshaper would not be able to close it in time. And if they had to kill a few flies to get there… Well. They wouldn’t miss them, not in the slightest.
Notes:
uni and stuff have slurped so much time lately, but now I'm on break I finally got time to write again ^^
Chapter 125: Arc 4 - 11
Summary:
The fight continues, the web tears.
Notes:
TW for graphic violence starting from "[name] didn’t waste the opportunity", ending at "And yet, they laughed." Blood mentions throughout the chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
She had initially been one of the ones that stayed near Xisuma while he did his thing, despite being one of the better fighters they had at their disposal. Her explanation had been that they needed a proper second line of defence instead of one consisting only of people that didn’t really fight, but truth was, False was scared. She felt her stomach lurch every time she so much as looked over at Arachne, her every instinct telling her to run.
Still, she had stayed where she was, ready to protect their admin with all she had. Her eyes had been trained on her friends, keeping track of what they were doing as she shifted slightly this way or that way depending on how the battle was progressing. Every now and then, False looked around, making sure their surroundings were still clear, that no spider tried sneaking up on them. She didn’t need to worry, though; Cleo, Joe, and Scar were there as well, circled around Xisuma to protect the flanks and rear.
As time ticked on, though, it became clearer and clearer that Arachne was winning ground. Most shields were on the ground in piles of broken wood, and the few that weren’t seemed like they’d break any second. Armour was dented, deep claw marks torn in the material. The spider’s blows nearly sent Hermits flying each time, and bit by bit, they stepped forward, towards the portal. Nevertheless, they weren’t getting out unscathed. Blue blood dripped from a variety of wounds where swords had pierced through carapace and particles combined, and several arrows still stuck out from between the plating. It wasn’t enough to slow them down, though, not quite yet, and with every bit Arachne stepped forward, False became more certain that she had to do something. She couldn’t just let that monster escape, not after all of the pain they had brought, nor after all of the sadness and fear they had caused.
False glanced over her shoulder, seeing the strain on the admin’s face. His movements were more confident now, the signs he made with his hands faster than before as a glow of purple surrounded them. The words he muttered didn’t seem to be from any language she knew, instead being closer to the warbles and vwoops of the endermen. Even that was only an approximation, though. Oh, how False would have loved to be able to know what he was saying. At least that way, she’d be able to more or less figure out when he’d be done.
A crash in front of her pulled her attention back to the fight, and she saw Biffa scrambling back to his feet, some of the diamond plating on his arm entirely gone now. And instead of running away, he just ran back into the fray, swords drawn and ready to strike. False swallowed and made up her mind. If Biffa could stand up against Arachne, then so could she.
“Guys, I’m- I’m going in. They need me.” Her fist wrapped around her sword a little bit tighter, and she ground her teeth together, filled with resolve.
“Roger that, Falsie! Good luck, take ‘em down!” Scar didn’t miss a beat, already moving to change their circle of protection into a triangle of protection.
“You got this! I’m sure you won’t miss!” She could practically feel the magic Joe was putting into his words, and she smiled.
“Thanks, guys!”
“We believe in False Supremacy!” Cleo was grinning, she was sure of it, but the fighter didn’t look over her shoulder to check. Instead, she ran into battle like she had done so many times before. Her sword sung through the air as she found a spot where Arachne’s defences were lacking, and much like Joe had said, she didn’t miss. Instead, her blue blade was now coated in even bluer blood, and adrenaline started pushing away the fear.
The battlefield was where she was most in her element, her body remembered that. Her movements were fluid like a dance, her feet following the movements of her enemy like a rapid salsa. She didn’t need to think, she just needed to act. Claws raked over her shield, trying to catch on to it and rip it apart, but False wouldn’t let them. Instead, she stepped to the side, finding a new opening to stab and slash.
All around were other Hermits doing much the same thing, trying to block off whatever path Arachne was following and dealing as much damage as they could. Still, those particles… Whatever effects the spider had put on themselves, they made it very difficult to actually get attacks to stick. Some of the more superficial cuts closed almost immediately, while stronger attacks didn’t seem to deal the amount of damage they’d expect, Bane of Arthropods or not. And yet, with every attack that landed, with every moment that passed, the particles seemed to lessen in numbers. It only stood to reason that at some point they’d all be gone, and if they’d manage to keep Arachne busy until that point… They’d stand a chance to beat them.
False nodded to herself as she continued on fighting, dancing out of the way of blows whenever she could and parrying them when she couldn’t, standing her ground as much as she could manage. Arachne was still winning ground, but slower now, and False just hoped it would be enough. It simply had to be.
C’mon, X, hurry up whatever you’re doing.
She was panting heavily as she kept on moving, just fighting and fighting and fighting. To her sides, Tango and Doc were doing much the same, while Cub, Jevin, and Keralis made arrows rain from the sky. Even Arachne seemed to be getting somewhat winded, every exhale a long hiss. The particles were sparse, now, which seemingly made the spider push forward even harder. Either that, or they were almost at the portal. Whichever it was, it wasn’t good news. Not in the slightest. False grit her teeth together, knowing she just had to hold on.
Just a little bit longer. Just a tiny bit more. Just until Xisuma was done with whatever he was trying. She couldn’t let herself be distracted by her friends crying out in pain, by the sound of a body hitting the stone floor. She couldn’t allow despair to once again wrap its cruel fingers around her heart, she couldn’t allow it to tempt her into running away.
Her sword swung through the air, connecting with a leg and cracking through the carapace. The spider shrieked and turned their attention to False, raking her shield to pieces in a single move of their claws. The fighter swallowed heavily but didn’t stop, switching her grip on her sword from one hand to two hands. If she didn’t have a shield to worry about anymore, that just opened up a whole other lot of fighting styles.
False danced around another claw, then another, before parrying the last, stepping in closer and kicking Arachne right where their more humanoid half connected to the more spiderlike half. Judging by the sounds they made, they didn’t like it in the slightest. They started moving forward, and False responded by stepping back again, out of their range, ready to parry and dodge another hit.
It didn’t come, though. Instead, Arachne first moved slightly to the left, before dashing around her right side before she knew what was going on. They went straight for the portal, and False found herself running after them, still hoping she’d be able to stop them. She knew she wasn’t fast enough, though. She just knew it.
Then a pulse of purple magic shot past her, headed for the portal too. It hit a split second before Arachne reached the structure, and the swirling portal collapsed in on itself.
“NO!”
The spider came to a skidding halt, stopping just a bit after the now empty frame as though they couldn’t quite comprehend what had happened just yet.
False didn’t waste the opportunity, though. She kept running at them, using her momentum to hop up a series of decorative rocks. At the last one she jumped; sword raised high above her head.
She drove it into their lower back as she landed, using both her weight and her momentum to make sure it went in as far as it could.
For a moment, everything seemed to stop. The crashing of the waves and the roar of the storm outside disappeared, the flames of the torches froze mid-flicker. No one moved, no one dared make a sound.
Then there was a screech almost akin to a banshee’s wail and everything was moving again.
Arachne tried grabbing False of off their back, but the fighter simply refused. She ducked down a little bit before pulling her sword back out, blue blood bursting out as she did so. There was another screech, and False wanted nothing more than to plug her ears. She didn’t, though.
Instead, she turned her sword around, the point facing the spider’s humanoid back again. Then, False rushed forward, stabbing Arachne straight through the heart.
A shudder went through their body as their arms went limp.
And yet, they laughed. The sound sent chills down False’s spine, and she felt her breath rising in her chest. They were coughing up blood between chuckles, but still, the fighter started thinking she might have made a mistake.
She didn’t even bother pulling out her sword as she jumped off of the spider’s back, creating some distance between her and them. False looked around, looking for her friends, hoping they were close, hoping they were safe.
“You… don’t know… what-“ Arachne coughed and wheezed as they slowly turned to where she was standing. “What you’ve… done… little… fly. You… lost…”
They grinned one last time, a dry chuckle fading out as their eyes lost their shine and their legs curled up underneath them. Arachne fell over with a thud, the ground slightly shaking. The body stayed where it was, then, showing no sign of respawning.
It was silent for a moment, then there were cheers coming from somewhere behind her, where the Hermits were.
“WOOOOOOO!! WELL DONE, FALSE!” Stress shouted, and there were footsteps running her way. False couldn’t relax, though. Not yet. There was something about Arachne’s dying words that didn’t sit quite right with her.
Something’s going to happen. Something HAS to happen, right, but what? What did they mean, we’ve lost?
False started cautiously moving towards the others, but reconsidered and instead went to retrieve her sword first. Whatever was going to happen, she would be facing it with a weapon in her hands. The fighter was vaguely aware of hands patting her on the shoulder, of people congratulating her, but it all seemed so far away. Instead, her eyes sought for Biffa, for Iskall, for Scar, for Xisuma, for Grian, for Ren, just to be sure they were still there, that nothing weird was going on with them. That whatever that spider had done to them had stopped now.
It wasn’t the Hermits that started going weird, though. Things she wasn’t focussing on seemed to shift slightly, every now and then. As though entire chunks of reality separated in colours, purples and yellows briefly moving one way while greens and reds went another, before combining back again as if nothing had happened at all. Every time she looked closer, though, it didn’t happen. As though she hadn’t just seen a glitch, as though all of it had been just a figment of her imagination.
And then it would happen again, somewhere else. Just slightly, just a brief moment, and then it was all normal once more. Gone too fast for her to point it out to others, happening irregularly enough she couldn’t predict when or where it would happen next.
False knew she needed to tell someone. Xisuma, probably. She moved as in a daze, vaguely aware of words and gestures and faces and concern, yet not acknowledging, just searching, searching until she found the admin sitting on the ground, leaning against a rock with an open book in his hands. There were pictures in it, pictures of him and another man that looked like him. It seemed like he was crying, too, but False didn’t know whether she could allow him to grieve, not just yet.
She swallowed heavily, then a sigh rolled over her lips. If the world was getting weird, the admin needed to know.
“X? Hey, I know this probably isn’t the moment, but… I’m seeing glitches all over the place.”
He was silent for a moment, before slowly looking over at her.
“I… I know, False. I can feel it.” He looked back to his book, his voice flat. “It’s- It’s not just here, too. It’s everywhere. This world… What happens when an admin – no, a Worldshaper – dies permanently?”
Notes:
Happy 2022, y'all!
Chapter 126: Arc 4 - 12
Summary:
A world to heal. Some well-deserved warmth.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
He didn’t need his communicator to know the extent of the glitches. He didn’t need to read the logs, didn’t need to look at the statistics. Xisuma simply felt it in his very core, like a burning itch that wouldn’t go away. And yet, until False had come up to him, he had pushed it all away. He simply didn’t have the energy or desire to deal with it. Not after his brother-
He has to have respawned, right? But where? Joe and Cleo are still here, and they respawned, so… Where is Ev- No. His name is Xanota. So where’s Xanota? Outside, somewhere? At spawn? At the bunker? Somewhere else entirely?
“-suma? X, I need you to focus on this. Can you fix this?” There were hands on his shoulders, and he snapped out of it, staring False straight in the eyes.
“Sorry, I- I’m not sure. The scale of this… It’s just growing. Growing and growing. I don’t know if I can. I just-“ He sighed and looked away from her. Where would he even start? He could simply feel the fabric of reality unravelling, slowly but surely, and he didn’t know how long it would remain stable enough to try to save it.
It definitely wasn’t going to happen without his communicator, though. Xisuma could try, he definitely could, but even the deactivation of the portal just a little bit earlier had taken so much energy out of him, let alone something like patching up the entirety of the world. He needed his tools, and preferably more than just his communicator.
Suddenly, there was a slap against his cheek, stinging sharply.
“X, I mean it. Stop wallowing in self-pity for just a moment and get your analysis hat on. I need you to fix this, but you aren’t alone. You got a whole team of Hermits to help out. So tell me, what do you need us to do?” False didn’t even pretend like she cared about his feelings, but that was exactly what he needed right there and then. It was true, there were others that depended on him. Others that he could in turn depend on. Another sigh rolled over his lips, and for a moment, he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his thoughts to focus.
One problem at a time.
“Get me my communicator. If you have it, a regen potion too. I need some people to make sure this place is safe, and some people to find my brother. Don’t stray too far, though, and for the love of the Void, don’t use the portals. Aside from that… I need Doc, Tango, and Cub to start setting up a plan B. Have them search for a stable world accepting multiple Travellers, and as soon as they find it, I need them to report back to me.” Xisuma shoved all emotion aside as he listed off what he needed. Emotion wasn’t what he needed, logic was. The logic that built up the world. The logic on which his admin magic functioned. The logic he was going to have to push to its very edges to solve this.
“A stable world- but- You mean we might…”
“Have to worldhop out of here? Yes.” He looked her straight in the eyes, to make sure she knew he was serious about it. “Now, let’s get things moving, we have no time to waste.”
False nodded to him, and ran off towards where most of the others were to probably tell them the news. Xisuma swallowed, taking a last longing look at the photo album before gently closing it and tucking it into his inventory. Why Xanota had had it was not a question he was going to ask, not right now. Instead, he was going to think of a plan.
There had to be a way to stop the world from self-destructing.
---
Something had changed, and ever since then, his head hurt so bad. It was almost like a ravager had stomped on it, or that he had stood too close to exploding TNT. It didn’t help that his vision was drifting two ways, one entirely in green, the other normal, like two versions of reality overlaying each other imperfectly. His thoughts were a mess, too, with one version of him screaming and crying and hurting and the other just tired, happy, relieved. Which of the two was he? Grian, or Sally? Both versions of him said he was them, but that couldn’t be true, now could it?
He groaned as he looked around, recognising the volcano he was in, recognising the people he was with. Flies, said one part of his brain. Friends, said another. It didn’t help him in the slightest, and he tried raising a hand to rub his eyes. Strong metal and coarse rope stopped him, though, which confused him. That was something both hims seemed to agree on, and as such, it had to be true, right?
A noise left his mouth, and before long, there was someone there, kneeling in front of him and dabbing at his head with a wet rag.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright, Grian. I’ve got ya, luv. How are you doing? You’re safe now, okay?” Her voice sounded warm and almost motherly, so far removed from what Sally said was normal. But she hadn’t called him Sally. She had called him Grian. And Grian said that this was Stress, that he was so happy to see her, that she was safe, that he was safe. With every passing second, he became surer that that was who he wanted to be, who he had to be. He leaned into the feelings, into the touch, letting it all wash over him while the other side of him screamed and threatened and called for his master.
Grian had no master, though. Not anymore.
“Stress? I- This is real, right?” he spoke, his voice timid and shaking as though he was doing something forbidden.
“Of course it is! The spider is dead, luv, no need to worry anymore, I don’t fink.” She smiled at him, and the expression was simply too much for him all of a sudden. Before he knew it, he felt tears welling up in his eyes, sobs already wracking through his body, letting out all of the tension he had unknowingly been holding. Grian wanted to curl up into a tiny ball and be hugged so tight that no one could get to him, away from everything and everyone that had hurt him. Then again, Arachne was gone. Really gone. They couldn’t harm him, not anymore, no matter what Sally said. Sally was simply wrong.
“Oh dear. I’m here for ya, Grian. Ssshh, it’s okay, it’s alright, just let it all out.” Stress was there for him, taking him into her arms and pressing him close, so close he could smell the hints of potion in her hair, so close he could feel how cool her skin was. His tears dripped down onto her armour, leaving trails of wetness, but he didn’t care about that. He cared about the warmth she gave him, about the gentle hand stroking the back of his neck, about the soft melody she was humming into his ear.
If only those ropes weren’t there, if only that metal wasn’t holding him so fully. The builder would have more than happily hugged back, holding onto her so tight that no one could take her away from him.
He knew why he was tied up, though. He got it now. He knew it by the snarling in his head, by the pressure that tried to make him give in, by the vague memory of a last order. Him being back in safety didn’t mean he was safe to be around, and it saddened him to know that.
Grian pressed himself deeper into her arms, letting Stress rock him back and forth as he cried and cried and cried. Was it too much to ask for this nightmare to be over, to be finally over? Was it too much to ask for the memories to stop reminding him of what he- no, what his body had done? Was it too much to ask for a bath so scaldingly hot that he could burn it all away?
If only his voice cooperated, if only he could allow himself to put his needs and desires into words. Instead, he could only sob, could only hiccup his way around the syllables of his friends’ names. People he knew he had hurt, or rather, who someone that looked like him had hurt.
“They’re here, luv, they’re all here and they’re safe. Some are a bit hurt, yeah, but we’re workin’ on that, we’re patchin’ them up, don’t you worry. Don’t you worry, dear.” Her voice was kind, so kind, even as one of her hands left him to take something from her inventory. “Just like I’m gonna patch you up, right? I have some potions, and some milk, I fink you can use those. Takes the edge off of it, yeah? Heals your wounds, at least the little ones.” Stress lifted up two bottles, one filled with white, one with a sparkling pink, and he was about to nod when a memory popped up.
“I will heal your little wound, and in return… you accept my marking.”
An offer of healing, at a price of course. Claws tearing his hand to pieces as eight blood-red eyes stared at him with malicious glee.
“Decide, little fly, do you want to be healed yet? No? Are you sure about that?”
Unbearable pain, and blood, so much blood. Skin torn open, bones pulled out. All until he gave in.
“Please… Please heal me.”
“Good choice, little fly…”
A blinding green light, a pain in his heart, then nothing.
With panic in his eyes he pulled away, away from the healing, away from what could only be there to cause more pain in the long run. His heart beat in his throat as he scrambled backwards as best as he could, hindered by rope, hindered by chain, hindered by the terrain dropping down half a block and then rising back up again. For a moment, just a moment, it felt like he was back in that cell again, back in the blackness, and for a moment, Stress’ eyes seemed red or green or both at the same time.
There was no malicious glee, though, no sadism, only sadness and hurt. The ice queen bit her lip, but stayed where she was, allowing him to create the distance he needed. She put the bottles on the ground before raising her hands up towards him, moving them up and down in a gentle, soothing way.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright, Grian. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, alright? I just wanna make sure you’re okay, yeah? But- only at your own pace.”
Grian wanted to curl up into a ball, to hug himself for comfort, but he couldn’t. He was raggedly breathing, his cheeks wet with tears as he looked away from her, unable to bear to look at her any longer. He had hurt her, why had he hurt her?
“S-sorry- sorry, so-sorry, sorry, sorry, I… I-I’m s-s-sorry…“ he stuttered, not knowing what else to say, what else to do.
He only knew she shifted by the clank of armour and the bit of cloth gently wiping his tears away.
“No need to say sorry, luv. I just didn’t think-“ Stress trailed off for a bit, the cloth pausing its work for a second. “I didn’t mean to panic you, and I’ll remember this for the future, okay? This is on me. For now, is there anything I can do to make things better for you?”
Grian shuddered, unsure of what he wanted, what he needed that she could actually give.
“T-the s-si-singing w-was n-n-nice,” he eventually just said, and he heard her shift again.
“Then I’ll sing for you, luv.”
Notes:
Uni is once again kicking my ass, but hey, new chapter!
My plot outline says six chapters left, tho that might become five depending on exactly how I split things up, or perhaps seven if some characters *stares at cub* decide its time for tangents
Chapter 127: Arc 4 - 13
Summary:
All things must come to an end...
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The screens he had called forth were blinking red, with a near constant stream of popups and exclamation marks. The chunk map on one of them displayed a higher and higher amount of places as being at risk, caught in this glitch or that. A graph displaying the anomaly count over time was spiking, the line only going up and up in an exponential curve. The situation was bad, and only getting worse.
The admin glanced at a little indicator he had quickly hacked together. It was the only number that was decreasing, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. No, this indicator displayed hopping stability; a measure for how many people could safely worldhop in or out on a given day. Going over that limit could have some catastrophic consequences, consequences Xisuma knew he wouldn’t have the energy to deal with. Unscrambling someone’s soul, the very code that governed them, was a complex and highly volatile task on a good day, let alone after everything that had happened already.
No, it was better to err on the side of safety, to start the worldhop well before the stability would reach critical levels. Until it got to that point, though, the admin was going to do everything in his power to try and delay or evade the inevitable. Every last trick in the book, every last ace up his sleeve, every last grain of experience, he’d use it all to fix this world, to save his friends, no, his family. He had to go against that nagging little voice in his mind that said it was hopeless, that there was nothing he could do, that he had lost, and show it that everything it said was a lie. He was the admin of the Hermits for good reasons, and not just because he was the first to step up to the job when the original admin had left them years ago.
His fingers almost seemed to move on their own accord, typing in the sequences of words, of commands that would lock on to a specific area, find the glitches in it, and would negate them one by one before moving on to the next chunk. Meanwhile, he could think about the next step, the part that wasn’t simply symptom management. There had to be something he could do, something that would repair the cause of it all. Some way to trick the world into thinking a Worldshaper hadn’t just permanently died.
The trouble was, he had never seen it happen before, nor heard about it happening. Travellers didn’t just die permanently, not even in the least forgiving of worlds. They always came back, be it in the void between worlds, be it in a new place. Sure, some worlds became inaccessible to certain Travellers, but they never unravelled. Arachne hadn’t been a Traveller, though, from what he could tell. They had been a mob instead, and mobs didn’t come back, not at all. Not even admin magic could remedy that.
Maybe, though… Maybe there’s traces of their essence left? Could I use that, somehow?
Xisuma frowned, but rather than thinking it through for longer, he simply started typing again, this time more focussed. He could try to access the logs, and see what was in there. In theory, there should be an identifier for them in there. There always was when a named mob died in some way or another. And with that…
His eyes widened when the logs appeared, their text garbled and all over the place.
No, nonono, what- Not now, not now! Goodness me, not the logs as well! How am I supposed to- Nevermind, I guess that ship has sailed. A different plan. There has to be a different way to solve this. There has to be, there simply has to be! Come on, X, you need to fix this!
It didn’t take long for him to fall back into the previous rhythm of trying to repair glitches as they appeared while he thought. No matter how fast he typed, though, the glitches were faster. There was no way he could keep everything stable, he knew that, and spreading his focus far and wide wasn’t going to help. And so, with pain in his heart, he gave up on the outer reaches of the world first, instead prioritising the main island and the oceans around it. That way, Xisuma could at the very least mostly guarantee the safety of the search parties.
Still, world stability kept dropping at a fast pace, too fast for him to counter. The admin hissed through his teeth, knowing he had difficult decisions to make.
‘X, we found one!’ Cub all but screamed the words, dragging the admin out of his flow. He didn’t mind, though, not for this. ‘Doc and Tango managed to set up some sort of scanner that I’m pretty sure misuses some loopholes in the laws of physics, but it works, and that’s all that matters! In any case, they should send you a message with the details any moment now,’ he continued. At about the same time, his communicator buzzed indeed, the message also popping up in the bottom corner of his screens. It seemed to have everything he could possibly need to actually access the world and to start the hopping sequence, which was just about the most promising thing of the past hour.
“Well done! Now, I need you, Doc, and Tango to start prepping the area for a worldhop. For twenty-one… No, for twenty-two people.” Xisuma quickly glanced at the stability indicator, feeling fear clutch his heart. Not fear for himself, though, fear for his brother. “Assume we need to hop in twenty minutes. I’ll update the search parties.” There hadn’t been any updates from those very same parties, no triumphant message that they had found Xanota, and if they hadn’t come across him yet, why would they do so on the way back? Was Xisuma really going to have to leave him, to sentence him to a fate perhaps worse than the ban-void so soon after reconnecting with him?
“On it!” The capitalist nodded before running off again, grabbing his communicator as he moved. The admin looked after him with a bit of a wistful look in his eyes. He couldn’t help but wonder if he could somehow stall everything, giving the search parties a little more time, just a little bit. What if his brother was just a few rockets further out? What if they had almost been there, but would now turn back without ever finding him?
There was no way to know, though, Xisuma was painfully aware of it. Besides, if he stalled, it would eat away at the already precarious safety margin they had, just like standing there and thinking in hypotheticals would.
Get back to work, you derp! Overthinking everything can wait till later.
With a nod to himself, he swallowed, not entirely managing to get rid of the lump that had seemingly firmly lodged itself in his throat as he was thinking. Then Xisuma started working again, smashing down those glitches that had popped up in the brief moment he had looked away from his screens.
It was like mopping the deck while the ship was sinking. Every time he managed to get the glitches in an area under control, they popped up in three more places. Despite having let go of the lands beyond the ocean, there was still way too much ground to cover on his own. The trouble was that everyone he could viably ask for help was already busy with the other tasks he had set them, tasks that were just as important.
I need to abandon more areas.
The thought struck him clear as day, and Xisuma steeled his resolve. A few gestures, and chat came into focus. A few taps, and he had composed a message. One last one, and it was sent.
Brother, forgive me for what I’m about to do. It’s for the good of the many.
---
Keralis was so focussed on searching for Xanota that the sudden chat notification spooked him. So much so, to be precise, that he intuitively dodged to the side, missing a tree by a hair.
‘I’m okay! That was definitely my plan, yes!’ he called out to the others in his small search party, before landing to take a look at the message. He hoped it was a message, that was. This was definitely not the moment for more deaths to occur.
The slight trepidation he was feeling didn’t so much melt away as it did transform into vague unease when Keralis actually opened up his communicator.
<xisumavoid> search teams, send me your coords ASAP
<xisumavoid> then return here in a straight line, also ASAP
<xisumavoid> don’t stray too far from that line, or I won’t be able to guarantee your continued existence
<xisumavoid> too many glitches to keep everything under control :-(
“Well, that’s not good…” he muttered to himself, looking around for the others. Zedaph and Impulse had already landed, while Jevin was still circling above them, covering their backs. Keralis made his way over to the others with a quick few paces, all while copying his coordinates over to the chat.
“Impy! Daph! Did you read that too?”
The duo nodded, both with their own cocktail of frustration and unease on their faces. Especially Zedaph seemed to disagree with what was going on.
“Yes, but- I don’t get it! We haven’t- We didn’t find Xanota yet, how can he just call the search off?! It’s his own brother for Void’s sake! His brother, and my friend!”
“Zed…” Impulse started, a tired undertone creeping into his voice.
“Don’t you Zed me here, Impulse. I’m sure we can find him if we just keep looking, and I am NOT giving up on him, alright? And you know what? I’ll just- I’ll tell X that as well. And I don’t care what you two, no, three are doing, but I’m not flying back yet.”
Keralis winced as he watched Zed take his communicator and start typing furiously.
“Sweetface, you can’t be serious about this-“
“Oh, I am serious, Keralis. More serious than I’ve ever been.”
“Alright, that’s enough.” Impulse didn’t give Zedaph the chance to shift his attention before ripping the communicator from his hands, holding it up and away.
“Hey! You give that back!”
“For Void’s sake, Zedaph! Get your head out of your ass and look around you! Can’t you see that reality is tearing itself apart as we speak? And that is with X trying to stop it from doing so! Going out there right now, outside of whatever areas he’s keeping safe for us? It’s madness, Zed! Madder madness than what you usually do!” Impulse gestured around him as he spoke, pointing out some of the glitches around. “And I won’t stand for it. You’re coming back with us, ‘cause I refuse to lose not one, but two friends here.”
“But-” Zedaph tried to start, but Keralis very quickly shushed him, taking the sides of his face in his hands.
“No, no, no. Impy’s right, you know? Do you really think Shashwammy would just give up if there was any way to save someone? Especially if that someone just saved his life! I’m sure making this decision was really hard for him,” he spoke softly, but intensely. “Now, look into my eyes, and nothing but my eyes. Returning doesn’t mean we can’t keep an eye out. Perhaps we still come across Xanota somewhere over there. But if we waste time just standing around here, then we’re not gonna find him for sure.”
“I…”
“Hey, is everything alright down there?” Jevin shouted from above, interrupting whatever Zedaph was just about to say.
“Well? Is it?” Impulse asked, finding a place to stand next to Keralis. “Listen, Zed, I know this is hard on you, but-”
“Stop. Please. Just stop. I get it, alright. I get it.” Tears were glistening in his eyes, although Zedaph adamantly tried to keep them wiped away. “You all don’t want to lose me, but what if I feel that same way about Xanota? You don’t know him as well as I do, you haven’t spent as much time together. So sorry, but no. I’ve made up my mind. And if I have to respawn a few times to find him, then so be it. Now give me back my communicator.” He shook himself free from Keralis’ grasp, and the wide-eyed man briefly exchanged a glance with Impulse. The other man simply sighed and shook his head.
“I had a feeling you were going to say that, Zed… Well, I didn’t want to do this, but you leave me no choice. Keralis, help me out here please.”
It took him a moment to get what Impulse planned on doing, but it took Zedaph longer. The two of them quickly grabbed Zed, making sure he wouldn’t be able to slip out and fall, before firing rockets in tandem, lifting off into the air.
Zed struggled, of course he did, screaming and crying and cursing, trying to get Jevin to help him, and at any other moment, Keralis would have had pity on him. Right now, though? Not quite so much. Not with glitches twisting the world as they looked on.
Luckily, Jevin was able to deduce what was going on rather quickly, and instead of asking questions, he just started leading the way back. It was an awkward flight to say the least, between having to keep a hold of Zedaph and there not really being any conversation. Instead, the only sounds filling their ears were the howling of the wind, the pouring of the rain, and Zeds pleading, mixed in with the occasional sob.
---
“We’re ready to rock and roll, X.”
It was Tango that came up to him this time, tapping a few things away on his communicator before making eye contact. Xisuma didn’t think it was a moment too early, although his heart didn’t agree. He had had hope still to get some good news, that he would manage to turn the situation around, that he wouldn’t have to leave his brother behind.
Nothing of the sort had happened, though.
“Alright, is everyone back yet?” Strangely, his mouth didn’t betray is feelings.
The sound of rockets and gliding wings filled the air suddenly, and Tango looked for the source. When he found it, he returned his focus to Xisuma.
“Now they are. Looking like a bunch of soaked cats, but they’re here.”
For about half a heartbeat, Xisuma refused to look over at the group that had just flown in, hoping to hear confirmation of his brother being there despite knowing better. Then he shifted his gaze, feeling not at all surprised but sad nonetheless when the only four coming his way were Jevin, Keralis, Impulse, and Zedaph. Tango had been right when comparing them to soaked cats: They were dripping wet, clothes heavy with water, and every step they made was accompanied by sloshing sounds, as though their diamond boots were filled with more than just their feet.
Zed was the first to reach him, his face and eyes red, with drops clinging to his nose and chin and more still making their way down. His ever so chipper attitude seemed dim and clouded, and he looked tired, defeated almost.
“X, what’s the meaning of this? Why call us back, we haven’t-”
The admin raised his hand, stopping the man mid-sentence.
“I’m aware, but we need to leave. I can’t keep this world safe,” he spoke gravely. He was, quite frankly, too tired to argue much. Between multiple nights of barely sleeping, constantly worrying for his Hermits, pushing his admin magic to the very limit, and literal torture, Xisuma didn’t have a whole lot of buffer left, especially not for this.
“So you’re just gonna leave your brother behind, just like that? He won’t be safe if he stays here.” Zedaph balled his hands into fists, but didn’t make any move to actually use them.
“Do you really think I don’t know that?! Do you really think I don’t want him to be safe?! Zed, there is more on the line here than just him! If we don’t leave really soon, not all of us are getting out. So tell me, Zedaph, when this world becomes too unstable to hop out as a group, are you going to decide who’s staying behind here? Because that’s the price if you want to keep searching for Xanota.”
“I-” Doubt flashed across Zed’s face.
“Well? Can you make that decision?” Perhaps he was being too harsh, but X just wanted this discussion to be over. Unequivocally over. There was simply no time for it.
“Oh… I…” Zed was stammering, his eyes wide as he realised . He seemed to be on the brink of crying again. “I could- I could stay, right? And I’d just follow later, once I’ve found Xanota. That’s possible, right?” He was exuding the despair Xisuma didn’t allow himself to feel, and somehow, the admin envied it.
“I won’t allow it, it’s that simple. I cannot let someone go out there until glitches have corrupted their very being, on the off-chance of maybe finding my brother in a shape that’s not beyond saving.”
Had Zed been an admin, then maybe. At the very least he’d be able to somewhat protect himself. That doesn’t solve Xanota getting corrupted, though… Hmmm… Unless…?
A plan started to form in his mind, bits and pieces falling into place. It was… not a risk-free plan per se, but it was the only way he could think of that could help his brother without outright sacrificing people, without knowing where he was.
“For the record, Zed, even if X had allowed it, I would personally have dragged you along with us. I ain’t leaving my buddy behind in this hellhole – no offense to Scar, of course, his volcano is lovely as ever,” Tango interjected, putting a hand on Zedaph’s shoulder. Zed, however, brushed it away, taking a step back and away from both the others.
“Why does NO ONE get that I feel the same way about Xanota, huh? Why is it all ‘leave no man behind’ when it’s about me, or Grian, or Wels, or whoever else here, but when it’s about Xanota, everyone’s suddenly okay with leaving him behind totally helpless?! Talk about hypocrisy!” He was fully crying again now, but more than angry, he seemed frustrated and helpless himself. Meanwhile, Xisuma had to really try to not let his own frustration bleed into his words too much.
“Tango, could you give me and Zedaph a moment of privacy? Please start getting everyone to the location you guys prepared, I’ll be there in a minute.” X spoke through clenched teeth, not breaking eye contact with Zed. The demon quite simply nodded and walked away, actually intercepting Impulse, Keralis, and Jevin just before they got to Xisuma. With a few hushed words and some gestures, he took them with him, leaving Zedaph alone with the admin.
Then Xisuma spoke up again.
“Zed, with all due respect, Xanota is not helpless. He’s more resourceful than you give him credit for, he has a suit that should protect him and keep him alive even in the more extreme environments, but above all, I’m going to give him an extra advantage. So just trust me on this one, alright?” The admin strained to keep himself from yelling or crying, but it was definitely worth it. Talking calmly for a moment allowed him to regain his composure, breathing in and out slowly once before continuing. “The best thing you can do for him right now is getting me an empty chest or barrel, and not telling the others what I’m doing.”
Zed himself looked as though he couldn’t quite understand the sudden leap of logic there.
“You… What? A barrel? I don’t-” he started, before pausing to rub some tears from his eyes. “Secrets? Now?”
“Yes, now. I’ll explain everything you want to know later, but right now? We’re on a deadline here.” He glanced over at the rest of the Hermits, who were already gathering up in an area of flattened ground.
“Promise me it’ll actually help him.”
“Zed, I-”
“Promise me, Xisuma.”
“I promise it’ll give him a chance to follow us.” It was the best he could do. There were simply no guarantees, not at this point.
“Good enough for me.” The other man ran off, and X nodded to himself.
Alright then, let’s get this ball rolling.
He walked over to the others, nodded to them, and took his communicator. What conversation had been there stilled to not much more than a whisper, and he felt the eyes on him as he typed. They had done this before; they had all done this before. Hopping between worlds was not a rarity on its own, but the circumstances definitely were, and Xisuma could feel the tension in the air.
One menu. Another. Fields to fill, parameters to appoint.
Had he been to the new world before, it all would have gone a lot quicker, but alas.
Coordinates. Relative coordinates. Identifiers.
A white light flickered to life in the centre of the group, expanding over the ground until it enveloped the entire flat area.
A seed. Settings. More settings.
Zed ran past muttering some apology, plopping down a chest as he went.
Amount of Travellers. Time offset.
The light started shifting to green, curling up around everyone inside it like closing flower buds.
Delay last departure by two minutes.
“Hold on tight!” Xisuma called out, before hitting the last button.
[ADMIN] Hopping sequence started
One by one, his friends were enveloped in the light, their voices one by one stilling as the light intensified and then dulled again, one person disappearing with each pulse until Xisuma was the only one left.
Only then did he start navigating to options he had not used before. He had seen them used, once, when he had become admin for the Hermits, but that was years ago. Back then, it had all seemed so impressive, so intricate, but with all his experience, the menu for transferring adminhood was a little underwhelming. Sure, it was locked away behind a password or two, sure, it had warnings and double confirmations everywhere, but in the end, it just came down to a text field and an enter button.
Typing the name wasn’t the hardest part, though. The hardest part was actually pressing enter.
You owe him this much.
Xisuma breathed in and out, looking up at where the Hermits had just been one more time before closing his eyes and hitting the button. Much as the menu had been underwhelming, the effect of it definitely wasn’t. It felt as though a part of him was being ripped out, an emptiness suddenly appearing where there hadn’t been any in so long. Xisuma breathed heavily as he focussed on just standing upright, letting the sensations wash over him. He had never realised quite how much adminhood had actually become woven into his very being until it was being torn away like a sweater unravelling. It wouldn’t kill him, though, that he knew. Things would simply be mightily uncomfortable for a bit.
In one of his pockets, his brother’s communicator buzzed, an acknowledgement of the promotion having come through.
Good. That’s good.
His eyes blinked open, half expecting his vision to have changed. It was hard to tell, though, with the glitches around him, disorientatingly hard. X didn’t quite have the time for that, though, knowing he had less than two minutes to do what he needed to do. He’d just have to punch through the pain and keep going.
The chest Zedaph had placed was empty indeed, but not for long. Xisuma first took the photo album, carefully taking a few of the pictures of him and Xanota from way back when, putting them into the chest. His communicator was the next thing to go in, although X would have rather not had to do that. It was for the greater good, though, and besides, he wouldn’t be without a communicator. Lastly was a short note, scrawled on a scrap of paper.
This will have to do.
With another nod to himself, Xisuma closed the chest, before stepping backwards into the light of the worldhop. It enveloped him much as it had his friends, and it didn’t take long for the light to pulse and for his surroundings to change to darkness.
---
>> cubfan135 has left the world
>> iJevin has left the world
>> Keralis1 has left the world
>> joehillssays has left the world
>> Grian has left the world
>> renthedog has left the world
>> ImpulseSV has left the world
>> TangoTek has left the world
>> Zedaph has left the world
>> FalseSymmetry has left the world
>> Biffa2001 has left the world
>> DocM77 has left the world
>> MumboJumbo has left the world
>> Welsknight has left the world
>> PythonGB has left the world
>> stressmonster101 has left the world
>> TinFoilChef has left the world
>> ZombieCleo has left the world
>> GoodTimeWithScar has left the world
>> Iskall85 has left the world
>> Xanota has been promoted to administrator
>> xisumavoid is no longer administrator
>> xisumavoid has left the world
---
[END OF ARC 4]
Notes:
So uh, life happened. Fun times. Also didn't help that the characters decided to take issues with the plot basically the whole time while writing this :s
In any case, I hope y'all enjoyed so far! The story is over and yet not entirely so at the same time, cause I still got some loose ends to tie up ;)
Chapter 128: Epilogue 1 - One Month Later
Summary:
A new start with old faces
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It was quite amazing what the passage of time could do. Just a month ago, when the Hermits had first arrived in this new world, no one had particularly felt like splitting up and living apart from each other. Instead, they had found a mushroom island and settled there, knowing no hostile mobs would spawn upon it. It was safety they gladly made use of, building up what could only be described as a village of fancy dirt huts as temporary shelter, while Xisuma worked hard to make sure the code of the world had not been messed with.
At the same time, a group composed of some of the braver Hermits had taken the responsibility on themselves to go out into the world to map it and to gather seeds, saplings, and animals for food. It helped transform the dirt huts into something better, something with proper roofs and stairs and shutters and doors.
TFC didn’t take long before leading another group down into the ground, gathering stone and ores for all to use while digging out a new communal bunker, just in case. Ores were turned into tools and armour, and the more redstone savvy Hermits jumped the chance to get some basic automated farms up and running. Dirt huts turned into proper houses with the addition of stone walls, some basic streets were laid out and paved, and a nearby skeleton spawner became the place to go for getting rid of excess energy in a productive way.
Others spent their time swimming in the ocean surrounding the island, diving deep for gravel and sand, or hunting for fish and squids. It yielded food and new building materials, and the kelp they gathered kept the furnaces and fireplaces warm. As such, the houses soon had proper glass windows as well as concrete foundations, some even sporting colourful paints thanks to an abundance of dyes, ready for a cheerful future.
The past was not forgotten, though. Stress spent her days mostly talking to False and those that had been taken by Arachne at some point or another, tending to wounds both physical and emotional. Some would leave scars deep enough that not even respawns would heal them, others simply demanded time and attention. Then there were those wounds that needed more, much, much more than Stress could give.
Python was the bearer of multiple of such wounds. Certainly, he knew that his fingers and fangs would regrow eventually, but that was the easy part. Mentally, he was still a wreck, his mind a snap away from being broken completely, and it didn’t take Stress long to figure out that his mental state got worse whenever Ren, Iskall, or Grian was near.
Guilt, he’d simply murmur, every time she tried asking why. I can’t bear to look them in the eyes.
Of course, he tried avoiding them, that much was clear, and while that temporarily seemed to help, Python never quite had enough time to fully process his experiences.
After Ren accidentally walking in on a session between Stress and Python caused a particularly bad panic attack in the latter, the ice queen realised things might just be better for Python if he wasn’t in the same world as them. Away from the memories, away from it all, there he at the very least stood a chance to properly heal. The only trouble was that letting him go alone didn’t sit right with Stress in the slightest, not after everything that had happened.
A solution to the problem presented itself during her next session with Biffa: Despite everything, he still had the desire to go his own way, to explore some other worlds, to meet new people.
To just live a little, you know? To fully be in control of what happens to me again.
Still, he wouldn’t mind a friend tagging along, both for safety and just to not totally be alone.
And so, a day was picked, arrangements were made, and nearly everyone was there at the town hall to wave them goodbye. Ren and Iskall had said their goodbyes in private for Python’s sake, and were now simply watching from a distance, hidden in the foliage. Grian, on the other hand, was perched on the balcony of the town hall, ducking out of sight whenever Python looked up, but waving at Biffa if he had the chance. His goodbyes were words shot into private messages, knowing the robot would see them eventually. It wasn’t optimal, but better than nothing.
Xisuma was the last to shake their hands, smiling at them gently as he directed them to where the light of the worldhop was already glowing for them. The once-admin was tired, but he hid it well; he knew he had to for the sake of his people. None of them except for Zedaph knew what he had done, and that was the way things would have to be.
Until my brother arrives. When he’s here, we can reverse it.
The actual departure of Biffa and Python was not all that spectacular, simply a few pulses of light and that was it. For perhaps half an hour afterwards, the Hermits remained near the town hall, sharing stories and comforting one another before each going their way again, returning to the new rhythm of life they had so easily fallen into.
A rhythm that was broken not a few days later, when the sky pulsed with light and a man came falling down from it. He was lucky the pool Keralis had built was there to break his fall or he would surely have perished. Keralis himself, first to arrive at the scene, subsequently almost perished as the man he recognised as Bdubs pointed at him and then started attacking him with a knife he pulled from under his shirt.
You! Is this your idea of a joke, huh, telling ol’ Bdubs the wrong world to meet up in? Do you know how long it took me to find this place after I escaped that deathtrap?!
The situation wasn’t helped by Keralis giggling uncontrollably due to Bdubs positively looking like a swamp monster, soaking wet and covered in all kinds of vines. It took about four other Hermits showing up due to the ruckus before they managed to calm Bdubs down enough to explain what had happened. Even with that out of the way, though, he still found things to complain about, from how long the night lasted to how the various buildings needed texturing and some proper interior design.
Then why don’t you do something about it, Bubbles?
Keralis didn’t waste time to help the returning Hermit find a place in the rhythm, showing him where to find resources and who to talk to if he wanted to change communal builds. Bdubs, in turn, didn’t waste time before sprucing up the interior of the town hall, and subsequently making sure that each house had a proper bedroom and a few clocks. Mushroom island or not, phantoms did still spawn at night, specifically hunting those that hadn’t exactly been sleeping enough. Giving everyone at least a comfy bed to return to as well as an approximate idea of the time should by all means help a little to prevent the winged menaces from ever appearing.
Peace returned to the lands until two people came walking out of the Nether portal under town hall. People that everyone was sure hadn’t actually been in the world before that moment. One was white-haired, half his face covered by a cloth mask, the other was big and burly, a blood-stained apron tied around his chest. Both were covered in soot and scorch marks, smelling heavily of sulphur. Grian, who had been hanging around at town hall, had immediately alarmed the rest of the Hermits and pulled out his sword to defend himself, while the two men seemed confused and slightly panicked on their own, claiming there should have been a third person with them.
Hey Etho? I don’t think we’re in the right Overworld… And where is Pause? I would swear he was just behind us!
The white-haired man simply shrugged.
Mmm… probably the universe trying to politely tell you your portal was wrong, yep, yep. Must be our Canadian influence.
In the end, it was Scar that showed up to save Grian from the menace that was Etho and Beef. He, of course, recognised them from an earlier world, and dropped his guard almost immediately when he saw them.
Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in! The second half of the nHo, finally having found their way out of the jungle! Welcome, welcome!
Needless to say, some additional explanation was in order from both sides, and Etho and Beef were given a quick rundown of what had happened since the last time Scar had seen them. Afterwards, Etho offered some hypotheses on how they had ended up stepping out of the wrong Nether portal after a challenge to survive in and escape from the closest thing to hell the universe had to offer. Of course, each theory raised more questions than it answered, but that was to be expected when asking one of the most enigmatic Hermits to answer a question.
The mystery was quickly forgotten about when the duo teamed up with Tango to create a few new games for the group to play. With cards designed by Beef and some interesting design choices by Tango, Stat Poker became an instant hit, while Whack-A-Ravager was… Different. Especially because neither Etho nor Tango ever disclosed where they managed to get the sheer amount of ravagers that were needed for the game, let alone how they herded them onto the island without anyone noticing.
It was during a particularly tense game of Stat Poker that the sky pulsed with light twice more. Instead of spitting out a new person like it had Bdubs, though, the two that appeared did so right outside of the little bar housing the game. Jevin had just been pulling his winnings towards him as the saloon doors slammed open, a man clad in a long black coat and a black bandanna standing there.
Ah, Jev. Did you know you smell? I could follow your scent from worlds away!
For a split second, his face remained a mask of nonchalance, but then he cracked a smile before running over and giving everyone present a hug.
Hypno? What- How?!
The slime man seemingly didn’t quite believe what he was seeing, stammering over his words before resorting to simply pointing at Hypno. Cleo, ever the opportunist, used the moment to nab a few of the diamond-shaped chips Jevin had left on the table, adding them back to her own pile, while Cub pretended not to see it. Instead, he was focussed on the second man entering. It was another bearded man, but this one was wearing a simple hoodie instead of a lab coat.
XB! Ain’t that a face I haven’t seen in a while, come on in, come on in! Care to join us for a round or two?
It didn’t take much more than the mention of a game to get xB to play, and before long he had a sizeable pile of chips of his own. Hypno was content with simply hanging out at the bar with a drink in his hand as they chatted about all kinds of things.
So, there we were, walking around on Hypixel of all places, and who do we see? That’s right! Python and Biffa! They looked terribly lost, so we gave them directions to a quieter place, and they gave us the coordinates of this world. They say hi, by the way.
Hypno at that point started vehemently denying, maintaining his story that it was due to Jevin’s smell that he had found his way, although anyone that so much as looked at his face knew he was joking. Laughter filled the room, and somehow, things felt complete. As the evening progressed, more and more Hermits came to join the games and the talks, sitting anywhere but on the chairs and stools. Little clusters of people formed, moved, split up, and merged until the sun had long since set, but even then, there was no specific desire to leave.
It was only when Zedaph fell asleep, soft snores permeating the air, that the group started to move, albeit only to grab what beds and wool they had in their inventories to turn the night into an impromptu sleepover. Pillows and mattresses filled the floor, while blankets were haphazardly thrown around until everyone had a few. The flickering torches died down slowly as more and more of the Hermits found a spot and went to sleep, until in the end, only one of each remained.
Impulse stood next to the spluttering light, looking over his friends before gently blowing out the torch.
Good night, guys. All of you. Good night.
Notes:
the prodigal author returns! after a few frankly crazy months - deciding the quit my masters, getting a full-time job, looking for housing, holidays abroad - I finally got the time, energy, and above all, the inspiration to work on this again. Just a little bit to go now. let's hope I can get that done before this fic turns three years old :')
Chapter 129: Epilogue 2 - Healing the Mind
Summary:
A sneak peek into Stress' life, and those that visit her
Notes:
Warning ahead that this chapter deals with healing from mental trauma
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Her cottage was just about as in the middle of the village as it could be. The other houses spiralled around it in a haphazard way, a whirlpool of colours and cosiness blocking off most of the view. Stress didn’t mind all that much, though. It meant she could be where she was needed the fastest. Sometimes they were medical emergencies, when Hermits had ventured too far underground and encountered a variety of mobs. Most of the time, though, the emergencies she got called in for were of psychological nature.
It was the very reason virtually every room in her cottage had an extra bed, sometimes even two. Especially when they had just arrived in the new world, there was barely a night she was home alone.
Mumbo and Wels required some extra monitoring after what they had been through, both mentally and physically, so they had been crashing in one of the guest rooms. With those two she was always extra sure to show them there was nothing hiding in the darkness, to make sure they knew where the lantern was, to let them see that the windows and door locked from the inside so nothing would come in if they didn’t want it to. Stress helped Wels braid his hair whenever he wanted it up and away, and she had managed to get some miniature redstone components for Mumbo to fiddle with whenever he felt out of control.
Xisuma, too, stopped by every now and then, but mostly messaged and asked for her to come over. Stress wasn’t quite sure what the spider had done to him, but he still didn’t have as much energy as he once had, to the point where he could barely take care of himself after performing a few of his admin duties. While she couldn’t necessarily help out with the admin side of things, she could still help in different ways. She provided food and company, gently affirming that he was doing good and that the Hermits didn’t hate him for his choices. With soft hands she massaged healing ointments into the wide bands of scars across his body, hoping it would help them fade away faster. Even if they wouldn’t, though, at the very least it helped Xisuma fall asleep.
Then there was Ren, who sometimes wandered in late at night, a bewildered look in his eyes as he asked her to do basic people things with him. Brushing hair, chatting, and sitting properly on a chair, anything that would make him feel normal. It was always those nights that he seemed hairier than normal, with a growl in his throat whether he wanted it to be there or not. By the end of such a session, he generally tuckered out on a couch, blanket securely around him as claws slowly turned back to nails.
Whenever Iskall stopped by, it was to talk of the past, to reminisce about pranks they had pulled, about things they had built, about worlds they had visited. Things that seemed light-hearted on the surface, but Stress knew better. She recognised the look in his eye, she noticed the slight tremble in his voice, she saw all those little signs of weakness he so reflectively hid. She also knew that it was exactly those memories that had helped him break free of the spider’s influence, and it wasn’t hard to guess why Iskall thought he needed them reinforced.
Scar never stopped by without a cat that looked like Jellie trotting up the patio with him. He had taken to wearing a ridiculously fake beard that covered his neck, while a large, floppy wizard’s hat sat on top of his head to complete the look. It had fallen off, once, and Stress had seen the mask he kept hidden under it. No wonder, then, that he had been focussing on magic more than building, and no wonder that his eyes always seemed so blue whenever he visited. She had mostly been helping him to slowly wean off his need for the mask, but progress was slow, so slow. It didn’t help that the act of landscaping, which he used to love, had become tainted for him, which meant that he lacked something familiar to do. They were working on it, though.
Grian had a harder time adjusting. He regularly woke her up in the middle of the night, asking her to keep him company, to not have him be alone in the darkest hours. At those times, even the lightest touch could trigger a flashback, and it hurt to see him like that. Still, Stress did what she could, getting out the bowls and the bread. Meats and stews were definitely off the menu, but a nicely filled vegetable soup was something Grian at least could stomach. She would sing softly as she baked more bread and prepared more broth, while he would sit there listening. Sometimes he’d shakily ask for textures to feel, and Stress would get out a plank of wood inlaid with small bits of several materials. Rough cobblestone, smooth terracotta, polished metal, springy sponge, grainy bark, soft petals, coarse coral and more, but nothing green, never green. Other times he’d ask for a more involved task, and she’d let him knead dough until it was supple as could be. No matter that she already had a pantry full of bread, no matter that she had just pulled freshly baked loaf from the oven, if Grian needed to build something up from scratch to feel better, she could always use another bread. Besides, it had something poetic to then eat it together.
And then there was False. She stopped by regularly, sometimes just for plain old chitchat and gossiping, other times to try and reason through her fears and trauma. Having been the one to deal the killing blow to Arachne had been good for her, as far as Stress could see. After all, while it didn’t solve everything, it was irrevocable proof that the fighter was far from helpless and weak, no matter what her fears told her. Not having to see Biffa every day but knowing he was back to his old self was another piece in the puzzle of healing, as was the lack of spiders. It gave False some much-needed breathing space, allowing her to bit by bit recover from what she had experienced. While Stress still didn’t properly understand why False had been hit so hard by what happened, she knew that that wasn’t the important part. The important part was showing False she believed her, that she’d at the very least try to help her deal with it, and that she’d try to accommodate where necessary.
“I had nightmares again last night,” False started once she had a steaming cup of tea in her hands. She was staring intently at the liquid, as though speaking to it instead of directly to Stress made things easier.
“Same as before, with the bunker hallway with flickering lights that turned into a spider-infested cave. Except this time, all of the spiders were somehow also Biffa. It- it wasn’t nice.”
She fell silent, a shudder coursing through her. Stress didn’t poke or prod, knowing full well that the fighter would continue when she was ready for it. Instead, she kept quiet, simply taking a sip from her own tea. Being able to cool it down at will certainly had its perks.
A gentle wind rustled the curtains, carryinog the salty ocean scent along with it. Sunlight filtered into the room, bits of dust dancing in the golden rays. There was laughter in the distance, a firework being fired, then the splashing of water and the indignant clucking of chickens.
“I tried fighting them, I really did, but-“ False squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, before shaking her head. “My sword broke when I hit one. And- And it bled. It bled a violent green. You know, like… Like them. And I needed a sword, I really did, so I pulled out another, because of course there was another, my brain just wouldn’t let me lose so I could die and wake up, and it just kept on breaking, kept on bleeding.”
Another pause. Someone shouted something somewhere outside, and False managed to mostly pretend it didn’t bother her. There was still a hand that let go of her mug, to find the pommel of her sword. That was as far as she went, though, catching herself before jumping up to defend herself.
“Relax, luv, it’s nofing. Just drink your tea, alright?” Stress smiled gently, but looked out of the window anyway, trying to see what was going on. Doc was there, running after someone, a carved pumpkin stuck on his head, his lab coat totally soaked, and chased by a small horde of baby chickens. He had what looked like dye packages in one hand, as well as a ball of soggy clay in the other, and while Stress couldn’t piece together exactly what was going on, she just had this feeling that there was going to be another prank war in the very near future.
“Mmhmm… Good call.” False let go of her sword again, breathing in and out deeply to try to relax. “It’s those damn nightmares getting me all on edge. Still doesn’t entirely feel like I’m fully awake, you know? As though I’ll just be back in that cave if I blink the wrong way or something.” Her eyes found her tea again, and seconds later, her lips did too.
“You’re awake, though. Awake and safe.” A pause. “I fink the worst you got to fear right now is getting pranked, so as long as you can deal with some dye and chickens, you should be a-okay dear.” Stress winked, and False was pensive for a moment. An exhale, then she broke out in a chuckle. It sounded real and joyful, more so than Stress had heard the fighter do in a long while.
“Yeah, that sounds manageable enough… Wanna team up, though? Just in case? We could even get Cleo on our side too, show the boys what us Hermitgals can do with our powers combined.” False visibly perked up with the idea of some good old low-stakes friendly competition, and there was no way Stress was going to nip that in the bud.
“Of course, on the condition that we all wear flower crowns for it, is that alright?” Stress couldn’t help but smile too as some plans already started popping up in her head. Sure, maybe whatever Doc was going through would not end up in retaliation, but then again, it was Doc. That man was easy to provoke and had no sense of when to back down. A prank in response was to be expected, and if there somehow wasn’t, the Hermitgals could definitely stage one.
“A reasonable demand.” False grinned, standing up. “Well, if you can get Cleo roped in, I’ll get a bit of a flower farm going so we can be ready whenever.” She took a look at her mug of tea, considering the temperature, before sending a questioning look at the ice queen. “Could you…?”
“Sure fing, luv. ‘ere ya go.” Stress leaned forward, touching her fingers to the mug and willing it to cool down. “And I’ll be sure to get her involved, no worries about that.”
False threw back her tea to the background sound of something wet hitting a hard surface, followed by more laughter. She seemed re-energized by having a new goal, evident by the spring in her step as she moved to the door.
“I’ll see you in a bit then, ‘kay?” She waved, ready to leave.
“Yup! Take care!”
Stress had expected False to just run off again, ready for some new shenanigans, but instead, the fighter turned to look over her shoulder a last time.
“Oh, and Stress? Thank you. For everything. You’ve been a great help, and not just to me. Thought I’d let you know that.”
Notes:
Sure has been a while. I've been working on this chapter on and off since the last epilogue, but I just wasn't in a proper headspace to actually get it done in a way I liked. Even now I'm unsure of it due to the topic it focuses on, but I did my best. Here's to hoping the next two chapters won't take this long.
*edit: I realised i had a small continuity error in here so thats fixed now
Chapter 130: Epilogue 3 - Colour to the world
Summary:
Dy(e)ing reimagined
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
>> GoodTimeWithScar hit the ground too hard
The message came like thunder in a clear sky, and across the mushroom island, a silence fell. It was as though the world held its breath as the first death played out. Hermits stopped whatever they were doing, a heavy feeling in their stomachs, unease and fear clawing at them. Logically, they all knew it was over, that nothing bad would happen, but… Well. It was still a possibility.
Time seemed to slow down, seconds stretching into eons before communicators buzzed in sync.
<GoodTimeWithScar> turns out town hall is NOT Scar safe :(
<GoodTimeWithScar> respawning seems normal in my expert opinion
<cubfan135> Good to hear that man, need help recovering your gear?
<GoodTimeWithScar> nah, i got this
>> GoodTimeWithScar hit the ground too hard
<GoodTimeWithScar> alright, maybe i don’t got this
<cubfan135> I’ll get over there, gimme a minute.
Sound resumed as though it had never been gone in the first place, and the atmosphere almost felt different. Lighter. As though a weight had been lifted, a weight no one had realized had been there.
The change was gradual, after that. Hermits allowed themselves to take more risks, venturing out further than before. Mobs were sought out rather than avoided, although most still steered clear of spiders if they could manage. Most importantly, death stopped being regarded as a horrible fate, and returned to being a frustrating inconvenience at most. With a prank war waging in the background, the latter could even be seen as a convenient way to get rid of undesired effects like carved pumpkins of binding or very persistent dye stains.
It was under these circumstances that Etho found himself in a rather mischievous mood. There were only so many farms a man could build before he needed a different creative outlet, and building buildings with only interiors wasn’t quite scratching the itch. Combined with hair that had somehow been dyed bright pink as he was sleeping the night before, it was the perfect time for a prank in retaliation.
The question, however, was who to retaliate against. Etho’s first suspect was Stress, and by extension the other Hermitgals, but that somehow felt too obvious. Not enough flowers left behind to be them either, which made it feel like a frame job.
I think it’s safe to assume it’s someone that doesn’t want the focus of my pranks to be on them, but rather on a different side. Someone that enjoys chaos, but more importantly, standing above it and pulling the strings. Someone sneaky enough to not wake me up. Which leaves… Cub? Doesn’t quite feel like his style though.
Etho scratched his head as he thought over it. Bdubs certainly knew how sleeping worked, to the point where he wouldn’t be surprised if the man knew exactly when someone was sleeping deep enough that some rummaging around the head wouldn’t wake them up. Then again, there had been a sort of truce between all ex-nHo members to focus on others, so it didn’t make too much sense. Grian, then? It felt like the builder would definitely try to frame someone else, but then again… Etho felt like it had to be someone that was closer to him than that. Someone that knew already where his limits laid, someone that had been around him for a while.
“Scar. It has to be Scar, yep, yep.” Etho muttered to himself, before going and collecting several much-needed resources from his chests. Dye, of course, as that seemed to be the general theme of the whole prank war this time around. Pumpkins, both carved and uncarved. What else… A few buckets, some filled with water, others empty. Some wool and string as well, to fashion a makeshift brush out of, as well as some undyed leather armour to protect his clothes with. He didn’t quite have a plan yet, but he’d figure it out on the way. Maybe that beard of Scar’s could use some rainbowing up. Maybe something else. It all depended on where the landscaper was by the time Etho reached him, and whether he was awake or asleep. Asleep would allow some hair dyeing, awake… Well. There was undoubtedly something he could throw a bunch of paint over.
Of course, Etho would try to get in and out without being seen, as figuring out who had done it was half the fun. Maybe he could even take a page out of Scar’s book and try to frame someone else. Light blue dye could perhaps do the trick, mixed with some darker blue and some white. Then again… What if he’d just take some other items? Some Keralis-style booshes, plus a whole bunch of flowers, perhaps moving the entire building just a few blocks over? Perhaps he’d even be able to make whatever interior was there look like several fireworks filled with paint exploded inside.
Hold that thought. I could fill fireworks with dye, hide a dispenser under a carpet, and hook it up to the door so it goes off every time someone enters or leaves. Ah, yep, yep, that sounds better than just chucking paint all over the place manually.
Etho put some of the stuff he had grabbed away again, instead exchanging it for paper, gunpowder, and a whole bunch of dyes. There weren’t shops yet where he could simply buy a whole lot of pre-made rockets, given that no one had actually braved the End for elytras yet, so he spent the rest of the morning rolling rockets and stuffing them as full of dye as he could, in all colours he had on hand. Would that yield mostly brown if it mixed too much? Perhaps. Did he fully care? No, although Etho kind of hoped it wouldn’t. Coming home to your house being covered in brown stuff was a bit questionable to say the least.
With the rockets all done, and a healthy dose of redstone resources in his inventory, the ninja made his way through spawn town. Where possible, he stuck to the shadows, keeping out of sight of anyone that might have been there. It would be a shame if his prank was discovered too early, or if anyone could place him at the scene of the crime. Besides, getting some more practice in was never a bad thing.
And so he crouched behind this hedge or that, bridging the distance between two houses with a flying roll, and keeping out of sight of the main roads. Had he been able to properly freerun, he’d definitely do so, as people in his experience only rarely looked up if they were going somewhere. Up would always be more hidden than at ground level, at least, until elytras came into play. There were none, though, not that he knew of.
Once or twice, Etho was sure he saw movement up ahead, this Hermit or that going about their day. It made him change course ever so slightly, keeping possible trajectories in mind and making sure they wouldn’t cross his path.
And it worked. A few minutes later, he arrived at Scar’s house, just a few buildings away from town hall. If the earlier messages were to be believed, Scar had been busy there, and might even still be. No guarantees, though, and Etho found himself crouching at a window to look inside.
It was every bit as decorated as he would expect, with shelves upon shelves of books and knickknacks visible along virtually every wall. A table in the middle was strewn with colourful crystals, and lecterns full of assorted notes dotted the room. A desk in front of the fireplace held a few crystalline statuettes, blue as ice and twice as sparkly, and what seemed like a branch of wood laid in the centre. Candles dripped in their candelabras, bathing the entire place in a flickering but warm light.
The flicker was the only visible movement, though, and there was no sound to speak of. All in all, it seemed like he was clear to go in and get set up.
The door was a simple one, with a pressure plate only on the inside to make sure it closed automatically. Something he would gladly make use of, given that it would make his redstone that much easier and that much less likely to be found. The one problem he had was the scattered notes all around, and what dye would do to them. If it was proper research, he wouldn’t want it to get the brunt of the blast but cleaning them up a little – or simply laying a pane of glass over them to protect them – should do the trick. Still, it was a problem for the future. First up: Wiring up the dispenser.
Etho grabbed his axe and a shovel, and began quickly and quietly digging out the necessary space for the wiring. It was simple enough, just a single line of redstone would do, but it needed to be deep enough to be coverable in something else than just carpet. Two block should do the trick, and before Etho knew it, he was pouring out a line of redstone onto the dirt. Certainly, he’d prefer doing it all neat and organised on proper blocks, but who knew how much time he had before Scar came back? It was a whole lot easier to go for functional rather than pretty.
After the redstone itself came the dispenser, and the ninja quickly popped in a simple block of dirt to test the mechanism. It would be a shame if he had somehow managed to mess up the wiring and the dispenser wouldn’t fire as a result. No, Scar deserved better than that.
Any doubt of his skill disappeared like a snowflake in the sun once he stepped on the pressure plate. The door swung open, and a tick later, the dispenser clicked, and the dirt was on the floor.
“Good enough,” Etho mumbled, covering the redstone back up again. He loaded up the dispenser with rockets, then put a bit of carpet over the thing to hide it. “As if nothing ever happened. Now, glass. Where would Scar hide glass?”
It turned out that chestmonsters came in many sizes, but the biggest ones always found their way to Scar’s base. In this case, the back room was so filled with all kinds of chests and barrels that it was difficult to navigate. Some of the chests barely even opened, and Etho was honestly a bit confused as to where the landscaper had gotten this many resources from. That, and what he needed them for, especially in the weird quantities they were in. Seven blocks of purple stained glass was a strange amount, mostly given that as far as Etho knew, there was not a single purple window on the whole island.
Then again, seven definitely helped him in his quest for some glass panes, and before he knew it, he was dishing out the panes over the various lecterns to protect the notes. The few he had left, he used to cover some of the books and other bits of research closest to where the dispenser was. It was a shame the panes were purple, which made them slightly visible, but then again, it would only be visible by the time Scar was already inside and on the pressure plate. It was a decent enough solution.
Nodding to himself, Etho looked around one last time to make sure he left everything as he had found it. Confident there was little trace that could point to him, he carefully stepped over the pressure plate, opening up the door and slipping out and away. Next stop: the other side of town, to go and make sure he had an alibi.
---
It was a lot later on the day when Scar went back home. Work on the town hall had been rather draining, but for the first time in a while, he had found himself actually enjoying landscaping work again. It had mostly been trees and hedges, along with some flowerbeds here and there, but it was so light and bright, there was nothing but good experiences there.
In front of his place stood a few people, and for a short second, Scar had to think who they were and why they were there. It was an interesting bunch, with Xisuma and Wels in a conversation that seemed rather serious, Mumbo fiddling with some pocket-sized redstone circuit, and Grian quietly petting a chicken that definitely hadn’t been there earlier that day. Nevertheless, the builder spotted him first.
“Hi Scar!” he waved, the rest greeting him in their own little fashions. Wels more or less saluted, two fingers going to his temple before nodding. Mumbo just smiled; his mouth half hidden by his moustache, which had finally somewhat grown back. Xisuma nodded as well, his facial expression mostly hidden behind his helmet.
“Hi guys! What brings you all here, to my humble abode? Did I miss anything?” As he spoke, Scar dug his communicator out of his pocket, scrolling through his messages.
“Scar, mate, you were the one that called this meeting. Are you seriously forgetting about Scar Club?” Mumbo chuckled, subconsciously tracing a few lines on his shoulder. It certainly rang a bell, and Scar stopped in his tracks.
“That’s tonight?! Wait- how- No, surely not, is it really that late already? Man, I completely forgot, been so busy with the town hall lately… Uh, in any case, yes. Scar Club. Do come in, do come in, I’ll make sure there’s some tea and some cookies, I’m sure I’ve got those laying around somewhere. Topic for today is… Let’s say the effect of respawning on scars? Seems topical, at least.” The landscaper chuckled to himself at his joke, weaving his way through the small group while motioning for them to follow along. “Unless anyone has another topic in-”
There was a click as he stepped onto the pressure plate behind his door, then a high-pitched whistle, then a bang, and the next thing Scar knew, everything was rainbows. Dusty rainbows. Turns out breathing in a bunch of dye was not the healthiest, and he stumbled forward, coughing heavily.
“Everything alright in there? Scar?” Wels sounded genuinely concerned, already moving in to get the landscaper out of his predicament. The pressure plate, now partially covered in a mix of blue and purple dye, was still active though, and less than a second later another firework went off. The knight froze in his tracks as a load of orange and magenta got blown across the room, covering everything in its path including him.
Behind him, there was a sound he almost didn’t recognise. A small giggle, a chuckle, then a pause. A snigger. Another giggle, more stifled now.
Wels turned to the source of the sound, finding Grian actively turning red from trying to hide his laughter. All the knight did was raising an eyebrow, causing some dye to shift and rain down to the ground. It wasn’t much, but apparently it was enough for Grian to completely lose it, laughing out loud and clutching his stomach.
That sound, in turn, seemingly also sent Mumbo over some kind of threshold, as he started laughing too, followed quickly after by some chortles from Xisuma.
“Well, I’m glad you three are enjoying this. This is going to be quite some work to get off of my armour.” Wels stepped outside again, his face still kept neutral, although he had to admit he could see the fun of it all.
“I guess we’re doing Scar Club outsi-” Scar started as he made his way outside again, inadvertently stepping on the pressure plate again. This time, it triggered not only an explosion of colour, but also one of the most genuine laughter anyone present had experienced in more than a month.
Notes:
It's getting harder and harder to write this the closer to the end I get, but fear not. The last epilogue is one I've actually been writing on and off for literal months now, so I don't actually think it's gonna take long at all before I can get that out to y'all ;)
Anyways, thanks for the support so far, it really means the world to me <3
Chapter 131: Epilogue 4 - Lost Souls Find Their Way
Summary:
One last loose thread to tie up.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Time, he had decided, was not real. Simply a construct. It had to be. A way to keep track of the untrackable. Xanota hadn’t bothered with time for quite a while. Of course, he had tried at first, counting days and hours as they passed. It hadn’t taken long for the glitches to really kick in, though.
The sky was void-black except when it wasn’t, periods of red or cyan or blue happening seemingly at random. The sun and moon moved through the heavens at whatever pace they liked, jumping forward and backward, or overtaking each other. Long periods of darkness were followed by longer periods of hellish brightness, while at other times the sky was more akin to a strobe light, blinking between black and blue.
Time itself, something he had once believed to be linear in its progression, seemed to warp along with space. More than once had he moved past trees and grass that grew backwards, materialising as wood and leaf alike unrotted, before jumping up, full of life, and shrinking down into the ground again. In other places, the same event happened over and over and over without ever changing, such as the sheep with shifting colours getting jumped by the wolf with only a frontside. One bite, and they returned to when the wolf just launched itself into the air, an impressive feat given that it lacked the legs to do so.
Gravity, another once-constant, had also given up here and there. It wasn’t so much not there as it was seemingly random. Xanota simply sometimes found himself walking upside down without ever having shifted, the sky far below him threatening to swallow him whole should he ever realise he should be falling. In other places he all but floated around, feet not touching the ground at all as his surrounding shifted and warped around him. It had been his reality ever since he had woken up in an abandoned cave what felt like a lifetime ago, the remains of cobwebs covered in dust. Things had seemed normal enough, but when he got outside… Not so much. Add to it the sudden feeling of power coursing through him, latching onto his very soul… Those first few days reminded him of walking for the first time.
And walking he did a lot. Where to, he wasn’t too sure about, although there was a direction that simply felt better than the others. It wasn’t like he had any other indication, though, so he just went there.
Whatever power he had received seemed to also give him an instinctual feeling for when and where glitches were occurring, allowing him to dodge areas where reality was drifting apart in two directions multiple times. It was a strange feeling, a nagging pull somewhere inside mixed with the idea that he should be doing something about it.
What it was, he only figured out by the world’s second attempt at dawn. Papers fluttered into existence, forming a neat pile next to him, the text ADMINS LOG printed on top in bold lettering. Half of the text below it was shifting before his very eyes, forming words and non-words faster than he could read them. Still, Xanota knew what it meant. He had somehow become an admin. How and why, though…. Those where mysteries yet to be solved. Luckily, he had plenty of time to think about it.
Aside from offering him some clarification as to what was going on, the logs also held another important piece of information: His current coordinates. They didn’t update as those on a communicator would, of course, but at the very least, Xanota knew just about how far away he was from where he had seen his friends and his brother last.
Very far. The answer was very far. Thousands of blocks, even. Still, Xanota was relatively sure he wouldn’t get closer by just standing in one place and moping, so walking on he did. On and on and on and on, through night and day and day and night, only stopping to gather food or to sleep. Biomes passed by, some still even resembling what they once were. Forests of stone and brick turned to cold carpeted hills of the purest glass, where villagers lived in their mushroom and leaf houses, built upon and through each other, towering to the sky.
Waterfalls fell up cliffs of flowing coral as pigs and pigmen alike roamed, hunting down the skeletons that bloomed from wooden flowers whenever sun and moon met.
Xanota didn’t stay to watch, though. The terrain grew weirder by the minute, and if at all possible, he wanted to arrive at his destination before it became untraversable. The chunks that were seemingly swapped with a random different one were bad enough, sudden cliffs and pitfalls breaking up the ground. They gave him an idea of what was going on underground as well, and once more Xanota was happy he had left the cave he had spawned in.
The passageways and caves moved through the stone like giant worms, opening, closing, melting into each other, and splitting off again in seemingly random patterns. Large shards of jagged bedrock pierced through it all, unmoving even when there was nothing holding them up and they should by all accounts have fallen. Geysers of lava spewed up and through the passages every now and then, roasting whichever mobs were in their way. In other words, one giant death-trap.
More and more time passed, presumably, and whenever the admins logs appeared in a legible state, they showed coordinates closer to world spawn. Xanota had long given up on sleeping when the sun wasn’t in the sky, instead simply doing so when he felt tired. The same went for eating. Without proper time, there was nothing to tell him when to have breakfast, dinner, or lunch, not even his own internal clock. It was fine though. It was all fine. At least, until he arrived at the last leg of his journey.
The ocean had been dangerous to cross while wearing armour in normal circumstances, let alone now. Yes, he had managed to scrape together some armour plates when he had passed villages, but he doubted the mix of mycelium and rabbit hide would protect him from tridents or guardian beams, and the red sandstone helmet… Xanota wasn’t sure whether that would stay in one piece when it got soaked. With the waves lapping at his feet and crawling up to his ankles and knees, though, there wasn’t much he could do to make things better. He didn’t really want to spend the time on it either. Instead, he was going to make a boat.
Planks he had enough of due to a duplication glitch he had run into quite some time ago, and he had almost blown himself up with a crafting table enough times to know how to place and use one safely, before it inevitably disintegrated into a pile of magma cream and clay after one craft. Still better than trying to place a furnace, though… Those quite simply immediately disappeared from existence without leaving a trace, not allowing him to use them in the slightest.
Either way, Xanota worked quickly, placing and removing planks on top of the crafting table in a specific pattern, avoiding other recipes until they glowed slightly and turned into what could loosely be described as a boat and oars. It didn’t have the most aerodynamic of shapes, but at the least there was a good chance it could float with him inside it. And if it didn’t… Well. Worst case he could try to swim, best case he could make it work by simply stuffing holes with the wool on the trees around. Either that or the tall grass in the caves.
It turned out neither option was necessary. Despite part of the boat folding in on itself in ways that defied the Euclidianness of the world, it didn’t sink, instead actually floating slightly above the water. The oars couldn’t touch the water either, forcing it to part as Xanota tried moving them. The boat went forwards regardless, though, and the last leg of his journey began.
Unlike during his journey overland, on the ocean surface little seemed wrong with the world. Sure, there were some weird chunks here and there, or pillars of dense jungle sticking out of the water like overgrown monoliths, and every now and then he had to row up hills, but aside from that, things seemed almost normal. A look at the seafloor dispelled that illusion, though. Structures of blazing fire and jagged meat played a parody of coral, while long, bony fingers waved in the current. Eyes moved through the water, flapping their fins as they chased what once were guardians, now blindly trying to protect their home. Once he stumbled upon it, it took Xanota a while to understand that the mess of prismarine he was looking at had been his brother’s base before. It looked different, now, the geometric shapes having turned to fractals as they reached for the sky and grew through the water like roots. A light blue, almost white liquid oozed out of the prismarine, following the grooves down until it hit the water, casting the whole structure in an eerie blue light. It didn’t take long to decide to not go in there, especially not when he saw the various creepers and zombies impaled on the spike outcroppings, sissling in the harsh sunlight.
He turned this attention to the side where he could already see the smoking mass of the volcano looming ominously in the distance. The dark clouds swirled in the air, forming a spiralling pattern that drew the eye to the black spire. A flow of lava shifted in hue nigh constantly, the surface almost iridescent in the light as it came rolling down the slope. It was perhaps the only thing about it that didn’t seem as ominous as the rest of the landscape around the volcano, at the very least, from what Xanota could see.
Ominous or not, though, his gut told him he needed to reach it and given that it was the last place where he had seen anyone else, he very much set his mind on going there. With a last look at his brother’s base, he changed his course, and he was off again.
The closer he got, the more details he could discern. What little trees remained had grown stunted and angular, their leaves charred and their bark non-plussed. Houses and boardwalks had a negative and translucent version of themselves superimposed but a little to the left, while elsewhere birds circled in the sky, their six wings beating in the most arhythmic of rhythms. Waves crashed onto the sandy shored, but the beach never wetted, and wherever there were cliffs, the water crept up and climbed to the clouds above like inverted rain.
None of that was explicitly in his way, though, and Xanota kept rowing until his boat had entered the cave under the volcano, where it hit the edge of the pier and promptly sank. He didn’t manage to get out on time, feeling water seep into his boots before he got on land, but that would dry up eventually. He had other things to do. What exactly, he didn’t know, Xanota just knew he’d find answers here.
What he hadn’t expected was seeing a blonde woman holding onto the back of a large, misshapen spider creature. Xanota blinked, thinking it would just go away if he focussed too hard on it, but nothing was less true. The woman – False, he realised – stabbed her sword clean through the torso of the spider – Arachne, it has to be – and the latter screeched, sending a shockwave through the cavern. Then Arachne tumbled to the ground, phasing into the place where a huge, carapaced corpse laid. False rolled off just in time, disappearing into the floor as though it simply didn’t exist.
Xanota let out a wordless scream, not sure what he was seeing, his emotions mixed. He was happy to see Arachne dead, of course, but having False disappear? The first person he actually knew and recognised after an eternity of trekking through the glitches? That was hard.
A pulse spread through the volcano, the world briefly stretching and splitting wherever it touched. It passed through him as well, but instead of his body contorting it merely felt as though someone was lightly pinching his skin. All of his skin at once. A shiver crawled down Xanota’s spine, and he couldn’t help but stumble forward, towards the corpse.
It seemed real enough, but seeming and being were two completely different things in his experience, especially given the current state of the world. His hand found green carapace, cold and unmoving, nothing about the spider was moving, not even a leg twitched. Flakes of dried blue blood surrounded nasty wounds in their back and chest, and the sweet smell of rot was in the air. Were they really dead, then? Actually, really dead? Forever?
Xanota was silent for a moment, letting the situation sink in. Dead, not alive. A chuckle rolled over his lips, but not because it was funny. It was as though he had finally reached his limit, one last bit of unlikeliness and unexpectedness causing all processes in his brain to crash. The chuckle devolved into a crazed laugh, the sound of a man finally breaking down, finally losing it.
He laughed and laughed as Arachne came walking around the centre of the volcano again. They were promptly jumped by False, who seemed to materialise out of a droplet from a stalactite. A brief struggle followed, a sword was stabbed through a chest, there was a screech, and Arachne fell to the floor once more, phasing through Xanota until the moving body was the dead one. False was gone again, there was another pulse, and still he was laughing about it all.
The kaleidoscope of reality twisted and shattered and made whole as he sunk to his knees, the skeletons of fish crunching under them as he hit the floor. Only now did he realise the sheer amount of bones littering the ground. All around, stripped clean of any flesh, yet somehow still slimy and slightly translucent.
It was unexpected enough to pull him from his almost-breakdown, and Xanota looked around.
“What the…” he started whispering, unsure of what to make of it. His gut told him it wasn’t a glitch, at the very least, and that was the strangest part of all. There was the sound of something moving, something that wasn’t the phantasmal déjà-vu of a battle. It was so soft that Xanota wondered if his mind had made it up, if he himself had finally started glitching as well. For a few seconds, he believed that, and then there was a meow and the feeling of something warm butting against his leg.
The warmth moved around until a cat came into view, meowing indignantly as though accusing him of something. A cat that had somehow grown both a secondary tail and extra appendages that looked like wings. A cat he nonetheless recognised. A cat that somehow found the time between complaining to rub herself against him, and to jump into his lap.
“Jellie…? What- How…? Why are you… What?!”
It sure said something about his previous experiences that the one thing he trusted least in his current situation was a friendly face. Xanota needed more than a moment to let his brain catch up, time in which Jellie stretched out until she was standing on her hind legs, front paws kneading into the rabbit hide making up his chestplate.
She seemed real enough, and while hit gut told him she needed to have her glitching fixed, it seemed far from the largest problem. That, and Jellie seemed to be doing just fine.
As if to quell any doubt about her existence, he lifted up a hand, gently stroking the cat’s fur. Her warmth soaked in through his glove, and Jellie leaned into the touch, her meows making place for content purring.
“Hey girl… How did you end up here, all alone? Where’s Scar?”
“Mrow? Mmmrp?” The cat, being a cat, looked at him, her head slightly cocked to the side. At the mention of her human’s name, though, her ears perked up. “Meow! Meow-ow~ Mrow… miau…” She was looking around, her tail sweeping over his legs as in anticipation. Purring and purring and purring, Jellie actually started moving around as though looking for Scar, as though she too hadn’t seen him in a while.
“Not here, then, huh?” He found himself really looking around the volcano for the first time since entering, almost hoping the Hermits would just come jumping out of the shadows to surprise him. Traces of battle still remained, however warped they were. Dried blood in vibrating puddles, afterimages stuck in time, arrows lodged into exsanguinated stone and wood.
More than that, too. Time and space seemed particularly warped and torn inside the volcano, as though he was sensing through a kaleidoscope that scrambled reality. Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean sound and sight and other sensations were in sync at all, which turned the experience into quite the headache. It also didn’t mean that everything was scrambled, some things still made a modicum of sense.
Xanota himself was one of those things, Arachne’s corpse was another, and then there was of course Jellie. There was also a chest, near to where lotuses of ghostly green light sprouted from the broken ground and sparkled in the air. A chest his gut told him he needed to open, a chest that housed a certain presence. Not necessarily a thing, more like the implication of an action, like the smell of earth clinging to a gardener, or fresh ashes in a cold firepit.
It was a no-brainer to go and see what it was. As Xanota got closer, though, he couldn’t help but notice the whispers hanging in the air, ghostly impressions of a time that once was.
“So you’re just gonna leave your brother behind, just like that?”
“With all due respect, Xanota is not helpless… I’m going to give him an extra advantage…”
“Promise me it’ll actually help him.”
“It’ll give him a chance to follow us.”
At the very least it told him the Hermits had gone somewhere, someplace he couldn’t normally go. The extra advantage definitely had to refer to his current admin status, then, but he wasn’t sure how that would help him. After all, Xanota had no clue where the Hermits had gone.
There was still the chest, though. A chest he found himself opening, curious to see what was inside.
It HAS to be important. It just has to be.
The first thing his gaze fell on was his own face, smiling. Xisuma’s was next to it, looking a bit more serious but still enjoying the moment. Xanota recognised it as one of the pictures from the photo album he had taken, pictures made in a better time. It confused him a little, but not quite as much as what he found right under it.
A communicator. Something he hadn’t had in a long time. It felt like a trap, somehow, but Xanota quickly picked it up anyway, looking at it from all sides. A name was engraved in the back, but not his name.
Xisumavoid… Why did he… Never mind that. I’ll take it. Better than nothing.
Then his eyes fell on a folded-up scrap of paper, his name scrawled on top of it in a handwriting that looked like his brother’s. Xanota squinted, wondering how complete the text was going to be, wondering what could be so important it had been left for him.
“Mrrp?” Jellie purred, trotting up to the chest and standing up against it to look in.
“I’m not sure, little lady. Definitely left by X, though.” He managed to tear his eyes away from the paper and the communicator long enough to pick Jellie up, letting her climb onto his shoulder. Next, Xanota put the communicator away in a belt pouch, before carefully grabbing the note, as though one wrong move would make it disintegrate. It didn’t, though, not even when he folded it open.
World name: Hermit-7
Block 172, layer 66, quadrant 40, world 138-118
Seed: WLLBYUG
Set spawn coords to 0, 64, 0
Leave other settings on default. Once you get there, there’ll be instructions on where to go next.
I hope to see you soon, brother.
~Xisuma
Xanota’s eyes widened and before he knew it, he already had his brother’s communicator in his hands, navigating through the menu’s until he found the one for worldhopping. He was getting out. He was actually getting out of this glitchy mess of a place.
Tears of joy started welling up in his eyes, no suspicions of sabotage running through his mind for once. He could be safe and sane and happy; it was all just a hop away.
“Jellie, oh, Jellie, we’re going home, little lady!” Xanota exclaimed, turning to kiss the cat on top of her little head. She was purring in response, looking inquisitively at him and the things in his hands as though she understood what was going on.
“Yes, yes, exactly! I’ll hurry up, we’ve both been here for far too long.”
There was a meow in response, and Xanota filled out the various fields as quickly as he could without making mistakes. The only place where he didn’t follow the instructions his brother had given, was the section on default settings. It was a no-brainer to go through them, and to make sure the option for taking a pet along was turned on. Leaving Jellie behind was simply not an option.
One last time, he looked through the volcano, making sure there was nothing else important. The picture of him and Xisuma he had already tucked away in one of his pouches, and at a quick glance, that was the only thing worth taking. Not that there was a whole lot more that was still in an acceptable state. The world was still tearing itself to pieces as he stood there, reality drifting apart more and more. There really was nothing left to stay for, and Xanota nodded to himself.
“Ready, Jellie?” he asked.
“Mreow-ow!” she responded, repositioning herself to lay more stably across his shoulders. He took that as a yes, and his finger came down on the button that would kick off the whole process.
A white light appeared on the floor beneath him, before turning green and enveloping him fully.
[ADMIN] Hopping sequence started
The light started pulsing like a heartbeat, intensifying with every beat. He instinctively felt it was fighting against the glitches, and for one horrible moment, he feared it wouldn’t work.
Then the light pulsed so brightly his vision fully turned white, and he was gone.
>> Xanota has left the world
His consciousness travelled through darkness for a while, pinpricks of light dotting the sky like stars. One seemed to be getting closer and closer, a name flickering into existence above it.
Hermit-7
Xanota relished in the brightness, then felt himself passing over a boundary of reality.
>> Xanota has joined the world
Smell was the first sense to fully return. The salty air betrayed the presence of a sea, or maybe an ocean, while the faintest whiff of mushroom on the wind hinted at the presence of a lot of fungus somewhere close.
The next sense to kick in was touch, and Xanota became aware he was st6anding in sand. Something was on his shoulders as well, and in his pocket, he felt a buzz, then another and another.
Sound returned third, and the first thing he noticed was how absolutely peaceful it was. The world was somehow a whole lot quieter than the previous one, and it was hard to point out why. Perhaps an omnipresent background noise had gone, or perhaps the glitches had simply been really loud. Either way, the sound that filtered to his ears now consisted of birdsong, the gentle crashing of waves, and something breathing and purring close to his ear.
Lastly, there was sight. It seemed like he was on a small island, not to far away from a frankly gigantic mushroom island. There were buildings there, and if he looked closely, he could see people scuttling about, moving to the shore, and hopping into boats.
The pressure on his shoulders shifted, and Jellie hopped down onto the ground. She seemed to have spotted something behind him, and when he turned…
“Welcome home, brother.”
Notes:
Finished. Finally finished. I can't quite believe I actually managed it. More than three and a half years of work, on and off, countless hours spent writing and figuring out plot and doing research. This last chapter especially was hard, because where do you end a story like this? What is the main takeaway from it all?
I honestly still don't know how to put that into words.
When I look back, I can hardly believe that I started out with a vague vision of Grian flying into a web and nothing more. Most of the plot just kind of happened, consequences of prior actions and wild solutions to problems I had caused earlier. Can you believe I only really started plotting things out somewhere in Arc 3? Even then, it was just bullet points, and the plan changed so damn often because of characters that had different ideas than I did, but in the end, it was needed to draw the story to a close.
And with Xanota and Jellie finally in the same world as everyone else again (minus Biffa and Python, yeah, but they have their reasons), and everyone having properly started healing, I feel like I've tied up all major loose ends. Are there plot threads still out there that I missed? Undoubtedly. Am I going to write oneshots and the like to resolve those? Prequels that explain how certain things came to be? Additional epilogue-y short stories to explore the concept of healing, and how experiences influence things? Well. That's a big old maybe. Maybe I'll just leave that up to y'all to figure out (but tag me if you do, I wanna read!)
There's probably more stuff I should write here, but honestly? I don't have the slightest idea what, or how to actually put it into words.
Which brings me to the part where I thank a bunch of people.
First of all, thank you to everyone in the Discord (even those that have left over time) for your unwavering support, advice, evil advice, (un)willing participation in story-altering polls, sanity checking, and generally being an awesome bunch. Saega, Jag, Leo, Cav, Eira, Solu, Tei: This story straight-up would never have been finished if it weren't for y'all.
Thank you to everyone that's ever commented or given kudos. The AO3 mail that said there was activity regarding CITSW was a daily (!!) bit of motivation to keep going and to pick up again for over three and a half years. Watching people's live reaction to my writings through subsequent comments has definitely been a favourite pasttime of mine. Some comments I even keep printed out, stashed away in a folder of happy memories for when I feel a bit down. Y'all rock!
Thank you to everyone that's ever made a fanwork because of this story, be it art, writing, song, or some other form entirely. So much serotonin, holy shit. So. Damn. Much. Serotonin. If you make some, please for the love of all that is holy tag me in it so I can smother you with love.
And lastly, thank you, dear reader, for going on this crazy adventure with me, and sticking with me through the many ups and downs all the way to the end.
Pages Navigation
Lackyducks on Chapter 1 Sun 01 Sep 2019 09:34PM UTC
Comment Actions
thatgirlfromasgard on Chapter 1 Mon 02 Sep 2019 07:29PM UTC
Comment Actions
MoffGoblin on Chapter 1 Mon 02 Sep 2019 03:19AM UTC
Comment Actions
thatgirlfromasgard on Chapter 1 Mon 02 Sep 2019 07:36PM UTC
Comment Actions
MoffGoblin on Chapter 1 Mon 02 Sep 2019 07:50PM UTC
Comment Actions
Account Deleted on Chapter 1 Mon 02 Sep 2019 05:12AM UTC
Comment Actions
thatgirlfromasgard on Chapter 1 Mon 02 Sep 2019 07:37PM UTC
Comment Actions
omanu on Chapter 1 Mon 02 Sep 2019 04:27PM UTC
Comment Actions
thatgirlfromasgard on Chapter 1 Mon 02 Sep 2019 07:41PM UTC
Comment Actions
WordStorm on Chapter 1 Thu 23 Jul 2020 02:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
WordStorm on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Sep 2020 10:53PM UTC
Comment Actions
anonymous (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sat 26 Sep 2020 04:14AM UTC
Comment Actions
B1az3_C4t (Guest) on Chapter 1 Fri 18 Dec 2020 06:07AM UTC
Comment Actions
thatgirlfromasgard on Chapter 1 Fri 18 Dec 2020 10:40AM UTC
Comment Actions
SquishCat on Chapter 1 Mon 08 Nov 2021 04:44AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anika902 (Guest) on Chapter 1 Mon 06 Dec 2021 05:25PM UTC
Comment Actions
Anika902 (Guest) on Chapter 1 Mon 06 Dec 2021 05:27PM UTC
Comment Actions
thatgirlfromasgard on Chapter 1 Mon 06 Dec 2021 06:40PM UTC
Comment Actions
OliExists on Chapter 1 Sat 11 Dec 2021 05:20PM UTC
Comment Actions
EllaE8 (Guest) on Chapter 1 Mon 03 Feb 2025 07:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
Eucalypta on Chapter 1 Sun 30 Oct 2022 10:48AM UTC
Comment Actions
EllaE8 (Guest) on Chapter 1 Mon 03 Feb 2025 07:35AM UTC
Comment Actions
Account Deleted on Chapter 2 Mon 02 Sep 2019 07:39PM UTC
Comment Actions
thatgirlfromasgard on Chapter 2 Tue 03 Sep 2019 08:39PM UTC
Comment Actions
Cynical_Sheep on Chapter 2 Mon 02 Sep 2019 09:46PM UTC
Comment Actions
thatgirlfromasgard on Chapter 2 Tue 03 Sep 2019 08:38PM UTC
Comment Actions
MoffGoblin on Chapter 2 Tue 03 Sep 2019 02:31AM UTC
Comment Actions
thatgirlfromasgard on Chapter 2 Tue 03 Sep 2019 08:37PM UTC
Comment Actions
MoffGoblin on Chapter 2 Wed 04 Sep 2019 02:21AM UTC
Comment Actions
WordStorm on Chapter 2 Thu 23 Jul 2020 02:02AM UTC
Comment Actions
WordStorm on Chapter 2 Sun 06 Sep 2020 10:55PM UTC
Last Edited Sun 06 Sep 2020 10:55PM UTC
Comment Actions
Tantasticlulu on Chapter 2 Thu 13 May 2021 06:13PM UTC
Comment Actions
SquishCat on Chapter 2 Mon 08 Nov 2021 04:47AM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation