Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter VII – Live Those Days, I Keep ‘Em Exciting

Falling. Falling for ten, unending, painful years. One may ask how he was able to keep track of the passage of time in that endless void; the helmet, of course. It was the supercomputer that made his armored suit actually function. It fed him basic information, even between dimensions. Simple things, of course – the passage of time being the most rudimentary one. He just had to keep living those days, one day at a time.

It’s laughable to be quite honest. He was practically immortal; he did not require food, water, or rest. Even the forces of Hell could not vanquish him. But he still needed that helmet to be of any use. As long as he had his helmet, he should be alright. Ten years of falling in the void should have meant nothing to him.

But it did.

Falling in this void bothered him because of the circumstances that led up to his endless descent.

It was not just a simple miscalculation of the dimensional tether and the teleporter device, but rather a defective launch that should have never worked. Heck, he was lucky to have even left with the machine in its destroyed state.

Of course, the Doctor escaped just fine, less than five minutes after he arrived at that dilapidated facility. With the Doctor gone, he still had to deal with those damned demons. They weren’t simple to defeat, slowly dismantling his array of weaponry as the fight went on, but he handled all but the last without much of a challenge. Those blasted demons had already set off the reactor core before he had even arrived, leading to the rapidly increasing temperature of the facility. When there was just one demon left, he had to leave. The temperatures were becoming too unbearable, even for him and his technologically advanced armor. To add to his troubles, he had run out of ammunition and was forced to fight with his fists. The last demon was a burly warrior, far stronger physically than he was and, without his weapons, easily outmatched. The floor itself was beginning to glow a faint red due to the heat of the reactor below. The only real option left was using the same teleporter the Doctor left in in order to escape. It was melting as well due to the rising temperatures, but it was still functional and would serve its purpose well if the soldier could activate it in time.

He ran towards it, dodging the swing of the axe the demon held, praying that the demon would not catch up in time. The soldier, once on the teleporter pad, initiated its sequence for transport. It would have worked flawlessly, had the last demon not launched its axe at the machine, cutting deep into its fuel tank.

The blow caused the teleporter to malfunction upon transport, spraying the red liquid used to power the machine all over his suit, quickly seeping in through minuscule cracks, burning his skin. He did not have much time for concern of the mild burning sensation in the middle of an escape, however.

Thankfully, the strike did not destroy the machine and it continued to hum as falling debris crushed the demon some ten feet in front of the machine. He was sure the coordinates were tampered with because of the blow and resulting spillage, but he had no time to change them before he was thrust into the void that lay in between dimensions.

It should have only been for a few seconds, a minute at most.

That space – that void – he got to call home for the next decade, as he slowly lost what little of his sanity, he thought he still had. The red liquid – some kind of new limitless energy the Doctor kept trying to explain to him during the war – had initially burned for the first couple days but had stayed latched to his skin like chains without much pain past the tightened sensation of his limbs. He would later learn that it wasn’t on his skin, but rather under it, having seeped into his bloodstream through the burns.

Whatever it happened to be also had begun affecting his mental state. Certainly, being in isolation for ten years didn’t help his deteriorating state any. Voices, similar to those demons he fought before entering the void, were the only things he heard for years on end. He tried to get them to stop, but no matter what he said, they wouldn’t cease. Maybe he was going crazy, but he instead just shut up and quit trying for most of his time there because they seemed to stay silent as long as he did.

The years passed and he tried to do stretches, mental exercises, sing old hymns (that didn’t last long with those voices gnawing at his conscious) – anything to pass the time. He thought he may just be trapped in the void for all eternity, so any bit of excitement to his endless days was a welcomed one.

However, when he saw pale yellow ground quickly approaching him, fates seemed to change – excitement came – and he did the only thing that came to mind – he screamed.

Truth be told, he hadn’t done much talking when alone in the void, so the scream was more just air exiting his mouth until he hit the ground, and goodness did he ever hit the ground hard. Ten years of velocity had not seemed to accumulate, but a hundred-foot-wide, ten-foot-deep crater in the yellow stone would have said otherwise.

Nevertheless, he still was not prepared to look up and see a tall, pitch-black figure standing over him, purple eyes digging into his very soul. He had gone toe to toe with demons, but this thing was just terrifying. It just stood there, mocking him. It was able to stand, while he was stuck, wedged into the stone in absolute pain.

Everything hurt. He may be virtually immortal, but it still took a short time for his body to heal. Before he was fully healed, however, the being grabbed each side of his helmet, and promptly vanished, taking his beloved helmet with it, leaving nothing behind but the purple particles now floating around his head.

‘That bastard! I need that! That’s my helmet! What does it think it is?! Maybe if I just ask kindly – No! When I get up, I’m going to tear it in half!’ There was that damned other voice again. Every now and again the voices would manifest into one solidified voice that sounded eerily like his own. It was far more malicious than even he was and always seemed to want to destroy. It wanted revenge.

About ten minutes later, the man was able to stand up and looked down at himself. There appeared to be a luminance about the ground that the void lacked. His helmet was great but he never really thought of looking at himself while eternally falling. His armor appeared to have rusted some, taking on a reddish color. He figured he would find a way to fix that problem later. He needed his helmet back first.

He looked around for a moment and noticed that the being with his helmet was now sitting on the ledge of the crater, helmet on its head. ‘Heh. If this was any other situation, I’d say that that is pretty adorable, but I’m going to need that back.’

“That’s not yours! Give it back before I hurt you!” The man yelled as he rushed to the crater’s edge, picking up a yellow stone along the way. The tall being paid him no mind as he ran towards it. When he was close enough for a perfect shot, he launched the stone at the being, but before the stone hit the being, the being promptly vanished again.

He stopped and looked around for the being. ‘When I get my hands on that thing, I will make sure it can never – ugh I will just request my helmet back.’

Looking around proved to be fruitful as he noticed the being some hundred meters away or so, this time across the void and on a floating island. ‘Come to think of it,’ he thought as he looked at the land’s perimeter, ‘I’m on an island too.’ The dawning realization struck him that he had no easy route to the being and had to find a new way to get to it. ‘This is going to be a problem, but I suppose it is still more exciting than falling forever in the void.’

When the metal man finally left the room, the armored man, who Joe assumed was this Xisuma character that the metal man addressed, kicked the cup of tea, shattering it against the wall near Joe. Joe could not help but react, flinching away from the wreckage.

The armored man let out a gasp before he spoke, “Joe! You’re finally awake!” The character elicited an excited jolt against his bonds. Joe could faintly make out Xisuma’s eyes past the dull, green glow of the visor attached to his helmet. They seemed to be brimming with joy at Joe’s own awakening. It pained Joe to not be able to remember this man, but he supposed he had to start somewhere.

“I’m sorry, but I assume you know me, but I don’t really remember you. I think the metal man said you were a Xisuma, was it?” Any joy that happened to be in Xisuma’s eyes quickly faded, replaced first by a quick instance of surprise, shortly followed by a deep sadness. With the only thing easily visible in the dark room, it was hard to not focus on the man’s distinct responses.

The man went to answer, stopping for a moment after sputtering out a soft ‘what?’ “Yes, my name is Xisuma. As you can probably guess by my earlier address, your name is Joe. Goodness me! You’re the first one to not be hostile to me! This is great! I! I! I don’t really know where to start, but I guess I can try.” Xisuma paused, calming his excitement momentarily, resolving himself. “I suppose you are probably wondering why we are chained down. It’s quite a long story.” Xisuma let out a soft chuckle.

“I don’t really think we have anywhere else to be, so I think I have time if you do?” Joe cracked a smile as he responded. Xisuma laughed grimly, slowly nodding his head.

“I guess you are right, my friend. You were chained down by Biffa, that mechanical masterpiece that was just here, right after you respawned-” Joe chose this moment to interject.

“Respawn?”

“Ahh. Umm,” Xisuma stumbled over his next words, trying to determine the best way to explain the mechanics of this universe. “Maybe it is best if you inform me of what you last remember, Joe?”

It was now Joe’s turn to laugh grimly. “Do I really have to? If we are in no immediate danger, I think I would rather not explain that awful place. What if I just left it at zombie apocalypse and,” Joe’s face fell as he tried to hold back a light sob, “and, we just call it a day?”

In the dim green light emanating from his helmet, Xisuma could see Joe’s somber look. He remembered sharing one too many drinks with the man one night during season two and receiving far more information about the world Joe came from before Hermitcraft than he could have ever asked for. Xisuma remembered Joe when Generik still ran the server. He was constantly on edge, not fully trusting the respawn mechanics at first, trying to be a survival master. The zombie mobs certainly didn’t help Joe’s uneasiness at all; and Cleo joining in season two only increased Joe’s anxiety.

That was of course what led to the night of drinking back in season two. Joe needed to talk about his mess of a past before Hermitcraft, and of course, voice his concerns that he had with interacting much with Cleo. It took a couple of drinks for him to loosen up, but eventually he told Xisuma everything that weighed him down. Xisuma was then able to provide the support Joe needed to begin opening up to the Hermits, starting with Cleo.

It was Xisuma’s first big success as an admin after Generik left. That old situation was a mess in itself that Joe helped him overcome that same night. Friends were a wonderful thing. Perhaps once they got out of this situation, they could share another drink and another discussion. It is certainly something to look forward to. Now, though, Xisuma had to focus on explaining this new reality to an amnesiac Joe.

“The mechanics of this world might be a good place to start then, my friend. First off, respawn. If you die, you respawn, typically back in the last bed you slept in. You recently died, which is why you are here and not out there. However, somebody messed with my controls and is making the Hermits respawn here,” Xisuma explained, testing the waters. Joe picked up on it fairly easily.

“You said ‘your controls.’ What do you mean by that? Are you a deity or something?”

Xisuma had to internally laugh at that. He supposed he certainly could be viewed as a deity, having control over the world’s code, but he was far from all knowing and all present. “No. I’m no deity. I am this world’s admin. The admin role is a leadership role within the world. There are many worlds with the same rules, or similar enough to be considered the same, in which an admin is present. You can go between these worlds, as long as certain requirements are met, but we can save those for another day.”

“It is a lot of information. Perhaps over dinner we can discuss such technical matters, once we are out of these chains of course.” Xisuma and Joe laughed at Joe’s attempt at optimism in the depressing setting.

“There are a handful of other things you should know that are different from your previous dimension. You can harvest blocks, like these stone bricks on the floor and wall, with various tools and reuse them elsewhere. You can carry hundreds of them at once in your inventory. The most important thing that you need to know about this dimension is that there are these entities called ‘mobs.’ There are many varieties of them. Some are peaceful, while others are hostile. The hostile ones, as per the name, will try to kill you.” Xisuma leaned back and started to speak just a bit softer. “When you originally joined our world, you were deathly afraid of zombies, my friend, and it took a lot for you to overcome that fear. There are zombies in this world, but they are nothing like the ones you had to deal with before. They are slower, weaker, and, although they can kill you, death means nothing in this world, so you cannot be defeated by them.” Xisuma leaned forward, trying to show a wide-eyed Joe that he was trying to be sincere. “I promise you; you will be okay, and you will overcome this fear. You did it before and, when we can, I will help you every step of the way to overcome it again. You are stronger than your fear and you will always have friends alongside you to help, okay?”

Joe sat, eyes wide, processing what Xisuma told him for a moment before speaking again. “I suppose I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Joe cracked a faint smile before continuing. “However, these friends; where are they? I do have you, of course, but I don’t think friends tie each other up, do they?” Joe let out a chuckle with Xisuma doing the same, before Xisuma’s face fell.

“About two months ago, we – the Hermits – began a game known as Demise. It was supposed to be a fun game that we’d participate in to see who could survive the longest. Those who died after the start time were to change their skin to monochromatic gray and were then able to set traps to kill the remaining living Hermits. I was only the third one to get killed, but it seems that everyone who is killed is brought here.”

Xisuma laughed, sad and low. “You’ve been the only Hermit who hasn’t been openly hostile to me the moment you have demised, but you are also the only one to not know anything leading up to your demise. I don’t know the specifics as to why, but we need to use this to our advantage. I need you to trust me, Joe. Biffa. He’s not the same Biffa that we know – the same one who was our friend. This Biffa is different. Biffa disappeared some time ago; I assumed he just moved on to a different world. He keeps saying things that don’t make sense to me. He talks about energy and demons; he talks as if I’m supposed to know these things. This Biffa knows me, I think? I never knew much of my past before Hermitcraft. I think he does.” Xisuma started rambling, only stopping when he noticed Joe’s concerned look.

“Joe. Something went wrong and I can’t fix it. My wrists have been in chains since I’ve been killed, so I cannot access my admin controls. I mean, I can see them. They run through my helmet, but I can’t access the commands unless I control it with my hands. As I’ve said, every other Hermit that has appeared here after respawning has been openly hostile to me and was quickly released by Biffa. I need you to help me, Joe. I know your memory is fuzzy, but we need to work together to defeat this threat.” Xisuma’s pleading eyes were hard to miss for Joe, and he was more than happy to try, but neither Hermit could ignore the footsteps coming from the hall past the door to their room.

“One final thing, Joe: no matter what, do not drink or eat anything they give you. Politely decline it to keep suspicions low. Whatever is in the food and drinks our friends have taken have only worsen the effects of whatever has come over them, making them far more hostile.” Joe didn’t have time for questions as the door to their cell swung open to the illuminating blue eyes of the mechanical man himself – Biffa.

Biffa looked over to the shattered cup of tea, now in puddle form with shards of porcelain laying everywhere near Joe. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Xisuma. I give you tea every day, and every day we go through these same motions,” Biffa said in that sickly-sweet venom laced voice that Xisuma came to dread. “Perhaps you are willing to tell me how to access this ‘brother’ of yours? Or maybe you would rather explain to me how you survived the,” Biffa seemed to drawl out the word, searching for the proper description. “encounter,” Biffa finished, now looking over to a clearly conscious Joe.

“Another soldier. Perhaps we can find a use for you.” Biffa smoothly approached Joe, grabbing Joe’s wrists before he could move away. “These handcuffs will do us no good if I need you to move freely around the...” Biffa paused a moment as he locked his fingers into the cuffs, breaking them simultaneously without so much as a scratch to Joe’s wrists. “Facility,” Biffa finished, now standing, beginning to approach Xisuma.

Joe was suspicious of Xisuma’s story, but he had seemed genuine and had most of what Joe knew correct. He supposed he could play along to whatever this ‘Biffa’ had him do and assist Xisuma along the way. He just needed to act casual and start off small, so that he knew the proper way to address this man. “Just one question before we begin, sir: how is it that I should address you, or rather, who are you?”

Biffa paused a moment, eyes illuminating Xisuma’s form in electric blue light. “Many of your friends have called me ‘Biffa’ and I suppose that is the system I now inhabit, thus not incorrect. However, he is no more.” He paused as he slowly turned looking over to Joe, his face unmoving, emotionless. “I am Doctor Samuel Hayden, and I am the head of this facility.”