Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter I – Them Days

Today had just been one of them days for Joe, one of them days where you knew that no matter how hard you tried to stop it, fate was going to come knocking on your door. Joe didn’t like the concept of fate. He believed in his own free will. However, that didn’t mean that Joe didn’t believe in the nonexistence of fate; he just didn’t like it. He believed there were a few things in life that were fated. Quite frankly, not making it out of this mansion alive was one of them. It wasn’t that Joe could not simply fly out the front entrance of the mansion, safe to live another day in this dastardly distraction known as demise. It was something a bit more internal.

No, Joe couldn’t leave. Something was drawing him here and he was not going to leave this mansion until he found out what that lure was. Joe knew that whatever was enticing him to the Deadquarters Mansion was going to be the end of him. He didn’t have much basis to go with in that belief, but he could feel it.

Over the past couple of months, Joe noticed antics from the demised Hermits that went beyond just the simple game that they were playing. It started out innocently enough – Ren acting as a Grim Reaper, Cub being a trap mogul, killing Hermits with his instantaneous traps of death, and Cleo. Well, that was when Joe fully grasped that something was off. Joe and Cleo were the best of friends ever since Cleo first joined Hermitcraft. Joe and Cleo had both been a part of Hermitcraft for years now, and Joe remembered what it was like before Cleo joined. He remembered the joy he felt when they first met and became quick friends. That was ages ago now. Having been in the same group for so long, their friendship became inseparable and Joe thought things would remain the same until the very end.

When Cleo demised, that all changed. She had avoided Joe for a couple of days after that incident. It wouldn’t have bothered Joe had it not been for when he finally did find her, he found her setting a trap up in the shopping district. A member of the demised team setting up a trap was just part of the game and, of course, her skin had changed, becoming gray and choosing green eyes instead of her normal, zombified skin that he originally predicted she would return to. She was different beyond appearance, though. When she first caught sight of him, something was off about her face that he never saw when he was around. It was stone cold, emotionless, perhaps even the slightest hint of disgust.

 “I’d watch out if I were you. You’re not welcome around these parts.”

A simple warning. Anybody could have taken it as a friendly, competitive warning – a gesture of goodwill for an exciting game. It was the way Cleo said it, that made the hairs on the back of Joe’s neck stand on end. It was menacing and it was a threat, not simply a friendly warning.

Whatever person was standing in front of him that day, it was not Cleo. He knew Cleo and, even when she was at her most competitive and threatening states, her words would never drip with the venom it did then.

His friend Cleo was gone, and in her place stood the very characterization of a coldblooded killer. Joe wasn’t going to stay around and find out what dastardly being had replaced his longtime friend, so he did the only sensible thing he could think of – he ran. He ran and he kept running, never staying in one place for too long, in constant fear of them finding him. They replaced his friends, and after that encounter, any time he happened to come across one of them, he no longer saw his friends, he saw the monsters that were once his companions.

Not long after he escaped civilization, they came chasing after him, leading other Hermits to their demise as well. TFC, Keralis, BDoubleO, all meeting their fates perpetrated by them. Joe had a sickening feeling that Cleo was behind the death of at least one of the two Idea brothers’ demises. He could just feel it. They did play a large part in her demise and they always liked revenge.

He knew he couldn’t run forever; he had just hoped he could outlast the other living Hermits. Then, this whole thing would blow over and everything would return back to normal. Deep down, though, he knew that wouldn’t happen. He might win demise and win those precious diamonds that everyone put their lives on the line for, but whatever took away his friends was here to stay. Simply outlasting the others wasn’t going to cut it.

There was something wrong on the server and he was going to get to the bottom of it. If his hunch was right, however, the only Hermit who could realistically fix it was Xisuma, having been demised long ago. He just had to find a way to at least verify his suspicion.

After days of hiding and running from them, it was a practical godsend when Cub extended his invitation. Joe couldn’t resist the opportunity to snoop around without seeming suspicious. This was, after all, the lead he needed to get started on his investigation. Cub had given him a challenge: make it to the top of the Deadquarters Mansion, through the traps on the floors, and there would be a book detailing all of the traps on the server. The catch was that he only had twenty-four hours to accomplish it before the dead team would have free reign at interfering with his progress. Twenty-four hours starting the moment the sun rose over the horizon the next day. Running out of time meant certain death.

In any other case, Joe would have been dead set on finding that book. However, an opportunity presented itself. If Joe had entered the mansion before Cub made his offer, any of the demised Hermits would have pounced on the opportunity to add another to their ranks. Cub’s offer allowed Joe unlimited access to the Deadquarters Mansion, as long as he played their games and stayed alive within the allotted time. It was a truce – a truce Joe was going to take full advantage of.

Joe’s mission was not the master book of all of the traps across the server - it was to search for clues. He was going to get to the bottom of this unsettling feeling before the twenty-four-hour truce expired.

When he woke up that morning, everything felt off. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched as he prepared for his trip to the old Halloween district where the Deadquarters Mansion resided. He decided to do what any sensible person would do when they were uneasy going somewhere – he decided to tell someone his plan.

There were only three people still alive he could trust. Iskall and Mumbo could be anywhere on the server and he didn’t have time to try to hunt them down. Joe had limited time after all. Doc had been building his massive raid farm over in Area 77 and, although the location was out of his way, was Joe’s only real option. Doc hadn’t left that area much since the game began months ago so it was highly probable that Doc would still be there. Thankfully, Doc hadn’t changed up that routine.

When Joe first explained his suspicions of the events unfolding of the server, Doc had been skeptical. Doc expressed his distaste in Joe’s master plan, saying that Joe had been overthinking things and just needed some rest. However, he was not one to falter in his hunches. Joe kept insisting that something was wrong with their companions and he was warning Doc that he did not think he would make it out of the mansion alive.

“Now that you mention it Scar and Ren were acting very strange ever since they’ve been demised. I thought that they were just roleplaying their parts, you know. Adding to the game to make it more immersive, but after Ren made me collect a soul – Zedaph’s – I hadn’t heard from Zedaph since. Maybe I’ll go check in on him, make sure he didn’t take it to personally. He wasn’t playing Demise, so I thought we’d be okay.” It was common knowledge Doc had tried to work around the contract made between him and Ren through the Zedaph loophole. It put even more weight on the situation knowing that Doc hadn’t heard from Zedaph since the incident.

Joe was adamant in his pursuance of the truth. He was certain that if he was going to obtain that truth, it was going to be in the Deadquarters, and it very well may cost him his life. “Doc, it may not seem like much more than a hunch, but I do not think I will make it out of the Deadquarters alive. It’s certainly been trapped at every turn and they could set off traps once I’m out of time.” Doc tried to reassure him that he was going to be fine, that he was just overthinking it, that these were his friends, not some mystery to be solved. Even though Doc had his concerns about the Hermits’ strange behavior, he was certain that it was all fine. He even reassured Joe that he’d check in with Zedaph tomorrow and make sure there was no bad blood and nothing wrong with the game.

Joe wasn’t convinced. Doc had seemed to be wavering in his stance that Demise was just a game, but it seems his bias held firm. He told Doc that if he did find anything, he would immediately let him know what he found. Before departing Joe expressed his hope that nothing would be amiss in the mansion, but for some reason he just didn’t believe it. The pieces just weren’t aligning properly and it concerned him.

Joe had been so engrossed in thought over the events of the past few days that he hadn’t realized that he was still standing just past the lava pit at the entrance of the mansion. Even worse, it was already past midday. Joe had a lot of ground to cover and he only had until sunrise to accomplish it. He supposed he best be getting started.

Chapter Text

Chapter II – Bad Days, Keep On Fighting

It only took Joe five hours to make it to the second floor of the Deadquarters. Only five hours. He was trying to be optimistic, but with the sun drooping ever lower in the sky as he flew around trying to solve the riddle of the first floor, he was quickly losing that hope. He had roughly ten hours to solve the second floor and whatever atrocities lied on the third floor before he would have access to the entire Deadquarters.

Sure, the book detailing all of the traps on the floors would be nice and all, but he needed clues as to why his friends just weren’t the way they always had been. In order to get those clues, however, Joe needed to get as much of the Deadquarters under his feet as possible. He needed to get into the mind of them and see what was going on with his friends.

‘Stay calm, Joe. Five hours for one room may seem high in retrospect, but if you increase this rate, you’ll make it to the top with an hour or two to spare. That’s more than enough time to comb through every detail of this base before your time runs out!’ He was trying to keep himself level-headed. He’s had bad days before, terrible ones that made him not accomplish anything for weeks, but he has always pushed through. This was no different! He was going to keep on fighting the good fight because the very lives of his friends were at stake.

He was Joe Hills after all. And Joe Hills is the guy who can conquer death.

Before he approached the staircase, he decided to drink the potion of fire resistance he had in his inventory. There were so many traps he’s encountered thus far that used lava that it wouldn’t have surprised him had the staircase dropped out from under him and he would fall into another lava pit. “Better keep moving,” he said encouragingly to himself.

He slowly climbed up the spiral staircase up to the second floor, hearing each stair creek beneath his feet. He had to be cautious after all, any of these steps could be a trap. As he wound up the staircase to the second floor, Joe noticed a lectern with a book placed inside. “Huh. I don’t really think I should take risks like this, but I have a feeling this one may be safe,” Joe whispered to himself.

He began reading the scrawled writing on the book. It read, ‘This is the floor of clocks. Set the hands of the clocks to the correct times to advance to the third floor. Read the books opposite of the clocks for hints.’ Joe closed the book thinking to himself, ‘Another puzzle. May as well scope out the floor before I begin.’

Joe decided to go left first, towards the lit area, taking note of the tripwire hooks with no tripwires. “It appears that this dandy little area is where the dead team keeps track of who is still in the land of the living,” Joe observed while looking at the still lit panels of Doc, Iskall, Mumbo, and himself.

He decided to open one of the chests to see what may be stored inside, regretting his actions immediately. A potion of harming landed on him, immediate pain shooting through his entire body. He flailed for a moment before the pain subsided, calming his breathing as he grabbed a potion of regeneration from his inventory, downing it instantly. “Note to self: check if the chests are trapped before opening them.”

Joe decided to read each of the little descriptions of the Hermits, humming a tune to himself as he went along trying to forget the seriousness of the situation he now found himself in. He stopped as he came across a dark oak door.

The door was in the corner of the room, out of the way of all of the Hermit panels and hidden between a couple of the presumably trapped chests.

There was a sign hanging just above the door that read, ‘Room of dark secrets of the dead.’

“This seems almost too good to be true,” Joe muttered to himself, stepping on the pressure plate in front of the door. “Hmm,” Joe hummed as he pulled a bucket of water out of his inventory, “better to be ready than unprepared.” He moved forward down the one block gap sitting on the other side of the door. Then, it happened.

As the door shut behind him, the floor beneath his feet was pulled away, leading to Joe landing straight into a column of lava. Joe remained calm, slowly pushing himself upwards. ‘Good thing I drank that fire resistance potion! Now to pull myself out of this lava.’ Joe was never a fan of swimming in lava, even with the fire resistance effect. Swimming through lava always felt like walking through a slime – it is thick, it heavy, but worst of all, it is incredibly bright.

Joe pushed through the surface of the lava, taking a deep breath of hot air. He pulled out his pickaxe from his inventory and began tearing through the stone bricks holding the lava in place. He began setting some blocks down where the lava stood beneath him, tearing out the sign above his head.

As he got closer to it, he broke the block that originally fell out from under him once the trap started. He continued building blocks beneath him until he was level again with the door.

He didn’t hesitate simply breaking down the door to push himself out of that lying room. “The only secret that appears to be back there is another trap.” Joe was a bit more careful moving forward.

“I think it may be wise to not open any of these books for the clocks. How hard can it be to just guess the inputs?” Joe browsed around the area of the second floor and found three different clocks. Joe also found what appeared to be a fireplace with a small library as well as a few totems of undying on some item frames. Taking the totems of undying and holding one in his left hand, he continued back to the clocks. ‘I’ll have to check that out that little library later, but first to unlock the third floor’ Joe thought to himself.

“So, there’s three clocks, each with the hand having eight different placements. That means there are eight times eight times eight different possibilities, or five-hundred and twelve different inputs. If I change one all the way around each time until I get the correct input, I won’t have to read the books on the lecterns and follow whatever ‘hints’ they give.”

Four hours of dead silence later, Joe was continuing his method of trial and error. He was trying not to miss a click of redstone wiring that may activate at the correct placement of the clock’s hands. When Joe heard the beautiful sound of blocks moving from the direction of the staircase, he could not have felt prouder of himself. Without a second thought Joe rushed up the stairs to the third floor.

There on the third floor was little shrines to each of the dead Hermits. Joe walked through each one, taking note of the detail of each of the mini builds. Each little area showcased how each Hermit had perished as well as a map detailing the exact area the death occurred. He got to Cleo’s and stopped, staring at it for quite some time. “So, she did die at Idea then. I suppose the rumors of Bdubs’s and Keralis’s involvement in her death must have been true.” It was a grim reminder on how much Joe missed his friend – his friends – and how much he wanted them back. He mourned for a bit longer before regaining his courage.

Joe continued on, taking note that there were still three open places for the last three Hermits’ respective demises, noticing a chest at the last one. Realizing the chest was not trapped, he opened it, finding heads of Iskall, Doc, Mumbo, and himself inside, alongside various miscellaneous blocks.
“So, what exactly am I supposed to do on this floor?” Joe absentmindedly asked, as his fingers traced the wall, “Or is there anything at all?” At this point Joe had started back up the spiral staircase and, realizing it was not blocked off, proceeded upwards.

Joe arrived on the fourth and final floor. There, laying before him on a lectern was the exact book Cub had promised would be there. There was the Book of Secrets of the Dead. Joe took a quick glance through it, searching for anything of use, but most of these traps Joe had discovered days before he ran off. No, this book was useless; it hadn’t been updated for at least a week.

Joe decided to investigate for clues. The fourth floor had to have something – it was the last floor Cub detailed! Certainly, it had to contain something that explained this whole mess!

As luck would have it, Joe did find something. He found something when he accidentally broke a wall out of sheer frustration. There, behind the wall was dozens of shulker boxes and chests. ‘Perhaps nothing, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.’

So, Joe did check the chests, and about twenty chests in, was rewarded for his efforts. There sitting alone in a chest in the corner was a book and quill and written inside was certainly Cub’s handwriting. Joe had a feeling Cub was keeping a journal to keep track of his experience with Demise. He remembered Cub offhandedly mentioning his desire to record the events of Demise as he slowly won the game. ‘Well, look where that got him.’ Joe snickered at his thought.

Joe decided to take the journal out of this off-limits area of the mansion. He fixed up the wall he broke so as to not provide any evidence that he was here and proceeded downwards, deciding to stop and read the journal in the library on the second floor. He had time to take a break anyway; a break before they returned.

Joe sat down in one of the comfy chairs in the library space and began reading through Cub’s thoughts.

Demise – Day 1: Demise has officially started! No one has died yet, but everyone seems to be on edge. Not too much of a surprise there, though. I’m going to win this! Or maybe Scar will! Heh! Well, we will just have to see!

Joe decided to skip the first couple weeks because he remembered it took just over two weeks for the GrimDog to make his presence known on the server, after Rendog met his demise. Joe chuckled. Maybe Ren’s persona was a sign that this was all going downhill and everyone just ignored it as funny roleplaying. Things changed though. People changed. There have been bad days since then, and there’s going to be ones just as bad in the future, but Joe just had to keep on fighting.

Demise – Day 30: It has been a whole month. I have taken up the persona of Mr. Invincible because I am invincible. I cannot be stopped. With Scar at my side, my friend staying strong through it all, how can I possibly lose? We are ConCorp! I am Mr. Invincible! We have outlived four of the eighteen Hermits participating in this game! We will win this game! Scar and I will be the last two Hermits remaining, or my name isn’t Mr. Invincible!

Joe noticed that a lot of the writings around this day were similar to this. ‘An ego boost. Just what Cub needs.’ Joe knew how this all played out, so he decided to skip forward a few days.

Demise – Day 34: I don’t deserve the title of Mr. Invincible. I couldn’t protect my best friend. What good am I when I cannot even protect Scar. Worse yet, when I tried to approach him about it, he ignored me. I searched for him for hours, finally deciding to go to Joe’s Halloween district, where other Hermits first saw Ren retreat to after his demise. I found him all right. Or should I say, I found someone who looked eerily like my friend. This man was not Scar. He was arrogant – Scar is never arrogant. The worst of it all was when we started arguing. I wanted him to come back to ConCorp. I just had finished a new set of buildings and wanted him to check it out. He told me he’d check it out if I did some dares for him. The mirth behind his eyes was unsettling, but I wasn’t afraid. I am Mr. Invincible, after all! Or, I guess I was. I don’t know. That’s not my friend, but I’m going to get him back! If I do these stunts, he said he’d follow me back to ConCorp! I’ll run some tests on him after trapping this fake Scar and figure out what happened to my friend!

Joe was right! Cub knows Scar better than anyone and if he thought something was up with Scar, then he would confirm with Joe that something had gone wrong with Cleo too! Maybe there’s still hope! However, Joe noticed that there were still two entries in the journal. Cub had skipped Day 35 and went directly to Day 36, the day of Cub’s demise.

Demise – Day 36: I’m going to get you back, buddy. I’ll fix this and if I don’t, well, maybe I’m wrong and I won’t have to. But if I don’t… maybe you’ll see this and know how much I tried to get you back buddy.

Joe’s heart was being pulled. It was a dying wish that wouldn’t come true and Joe knew it. One last entry.

Demise.Day?36? I. I don’t. I don’t understand… These voices. They won’t. They won’t leave me alone! They sound just like the vex… But they are so much more incessant. I. I have to write this down. I. I. I have to get this to somebody before. Before I lose control! I. I. I…

The writing became unintelligible scribbles the further it went along. Joe was having trouble reading it as it was, let alone trying to decipher the scribbles below. The scribbles continued for pages before, on the last page of the journal, written in what could only be described as blood, were three bold letters: R U N.

Joe prepared to bolt for the door when the three clocks on the floor began to chime. Joe’s time was out. How long had he spent reading Cub’s journal? No matter. He would message Doc, and tell him he’d be over shortly, hiding the book under one of the chairs, just in case he didn’t get to Doc first.

joehillssays: Hey Doc! I found a journal of Cub’s! It is important and I am out of time. It is under one of the chairs in the library of the second floor!

Joe did not wait for a response and hid the book under the chair as he went to run down the steps.

Not three steps later did he hear a voice he dreaded to hear, freezing him in place. “Well, well, well! Look who we have here! A trespasser within our mansion! Perhaps you’d like to take off your jacket and stay awhile! We’ve got a nice, warm grave all ready for you, Joe!”

Chapter Text

Chapter III – Creeper… Aww Man

When Joe came by in the morning discussing his plan to find clues on why the Hermits were acting different, Doc had been beyond skeptical. Nevertheless, the more Joe talked about their friends’ odd behavior, the less confident Doc was on his belief that Demise was just a game. Perhaps it was something that needed investigating. Perhaps Joe was on the right trail, investigating the Deadquarters and all. Doc, on the other hand, still wasn’t quite convinced. After all, his friends were still his friends. The shops still stayed stocked, the machines kept running, the builds kept growing every day. Hadn’t they? As a matter of fact, now that Doc thought about it, what builds did get done by the demised Hermits? Sure, the Halloween district was renovated, and the Deadquarters were built, but now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember a demised Hermit ever spending time on anything except builds and traps that led to an alive Hermit’s demise. ‘Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to swing by the shopping district and see if anything over there was changed. I could do it after I meet with Zedaph. I should do that sooner today than later tomorrow if I am heading over there for a second reason anyway.’

Doc mentioned when talking to Joe that he was worried that Zedaph may have taken their little shenanigans a little too seriously. Doc was sure that’s all it was. ‘Just a misunderstanding. That’s all. Yeah…’ Doc was hoping that’s all it was but the more he tried to reassure himself that was the case, the less he believed his own thoughts. Now that he was thinking about it, where even was Zedaph’s base? Whenever Doc needed anything from the Hermit, he would just message him, and they would meet up somewhere. He supposed he would do some investigative work. Perhaps he’d buy some supplies in the shopping district later tonight while scoping out if the shops were resupplied. First though, he figured he may as well try messaging Zedaph and see if he got a response.

Docm77: Yo! Zed! My man! I haven’t heard from you in a while and wanted to know if you wanted to hang out? We could play some of the minigames, even RGB if you’re down? Just let me know!

If he didn’t hear from Zedaph by nightfall, he would begin to worry, but for now he had to get back to building his raid farm.

However, as the sun crept across the sky and the moon soon emerged, Doc began to get antsy. He started checking his communicator more frequently, worried every time that maybe the alert that it gave off from a new direct message didn’t work properly and that there would be a message from Zed just waiting to be opened. Each time Doc checked, there wasn’t an answer. Doc even began just checking the main group chat, but there wasn’t anything save for some banter between Iskall and Mumbo.

When the sun did finally set over the horizon, Doc had enough of his raid farm and hurried over to his chest for the materials he would need to get him there. Although Doc didn’t want to use his elytra, due to the safety hazard surrounding a possible break, Doc didn’t like his odds fighting the fledging mobs that always accompanied the walk to the main portal in New Hermitville. Sure, he could use Area 77’s nether portal, but there was a better connection to the main rail from the main portal. He would just be sure to take it slowly through the nether to not set off any wayward traps. He’d be fine. Those mobs sure seemed to be increasing in number lately, at least around him. Maybe there was something he’d have to report to Xisuma tomorrow? Doc didn’t like that there were so many things he was unsure of, but he was pretty sure all of his uncertainty revolved around the fact that Zed had still not responded to his messages.

So, off he flew, the great mechanized creeper, towards the main portal of New Hermitville. Quite an uneventful flight to New Hermitville, but once in town, he realized something was off the moment he approached.

The Hermits always joked about improperly lighting areas and creating accidental mob farms, but overall tended to be quite the opposite, especially when it came to larger community builds like New Hermitville. Doc was also pretty sure the last time he flew through town, there was a lantern hung from every possible corner. And yet, New Hermitville was shrouded in darkness.

Mobs were rampant in the town, the tower that held the main portal having at least two skeletons and a creeper in the portal area. Sure, Doc could take the mindless mobs that roamed the town, but was he really willing to take that risk? The quick answer was yes, but not during Demise. No, Doc may be one of the best fighters out of the Hermits, but he was still cautious. He knew when to pick his fights and he had time. He may as well just do a circle around to Area 77 and back again and hope some of the mobs may despawn.

A few minutes later, and a quick flight back to Area 77 and back, and New Hermitville came back into view, more mobs present than before. ‘Scheisse! They’ve doubled in numbers! What is going on? It’s too far out of my way to just fly to the main island and I’m no coward! I can take on a few skeletons!’ The mobs now present on the tower were three skeletons a zombie and a spider.

Doc flew two circles around the tower as he shifted his trident from his inventory into his main hand and his rockets to his offhand. As he was about to start the third lap around the tower, Doc launched the trident at the spider climbing precariously close to the edge, effectively knocking it off the tower. Doc proceeded to close in on the tower, landing on the same edge that the spider fell off of just as his trident came back into his grasp.

Doc launched the trident at one of the skeletons and pulled out his sword, driving it into the chest of the zombie. Doc shifted to his left just at the last moment as two arrows whizzed by his head, landing in the wooden wall behind him.

As the trident returned again to its owner, so too came another arrow, this time hitting its mark in the creeper’s left shoulder. Doc let out a hiss as he again launched his trident from the source of the arrow, hearing a satisfying crunch and crack upon impact. Grabbing his sword out of the zombie with his good hand, Doc tore apart the zombie as it fell to the ground in a thump.

Doc then rushed forward at the closer of the two skeletons crashing his sword through the bones of the skeleton but dropped his sword in the follow through. Catching his returning trident after he dropped his sword, Doc launched it in one swift swing at the remaining skeleton, pinning it to the wall between the prongs. Doc picked up his sword and stabbed the skull of the skeleton as it disappeared in a couple arrows and some experience orbs.

Doc made quick work blocking the entrances with some on hand blocks and lighting the room with some torches he happened to have in his inventory.

The arrows stung; they always did, but normally they don’t embed themselves deep enough to cause such pain. They normally stayed in just deep enough to draw blood and would simply be a nuisance if they were not removed. However, this arrow sunk deep into Doc’s flesh, and with the adrenaline of the fight now wearing off, Doc became acutely aware of the pain in his shoulder. He had to get the arrow out of his shoulder before it caused more damage.

So, that’s what he did, or rather, tried to do. Thankfully, it seems that the arrow hit where the straps on his elytra were strapped across his shoulder, so the arrow didn’t simply go through his flesh. Nevertheless, it still hurt, going far deeper than it should have from a simple skeleton.

He used his right arm to grab the arrow, grasping as close to his body as he could. He tugged slowly on the arrow, letting out a light scream. He decided it may be a good idea to bite down on something, something like his lab coat. So, that’s what he did, pulling it up to his mouth as he bit hard into part of the collar.

‘This time, no light pull. I’m just gonna yank it out!’ In one swift motion Doc yanked out the arrow, biting hard on his lab coat as he screamed from the pain.

As the minutes passed, the pain dulled and he was able to open his mouth. “I’m going to need to ask X about the weird mob mechanics sooner or later, aren’t I?” Doc asked to no one in particularly, groaning at his bad luck. With a hesitant sigh, he walked towards the portal and stepped through.

Surprisingly enough, there wasn’t a trap waiting for him on the other side of the portal. Rather, all that greeted him was the stifling heat of the nether.

Doc ran along the path that traveled from New Hermitville to the main hub, deciding flight and riding a boat on the ice path was out of the question. The various traps from Demise have made quick travel in the Nether quite perilous. Nevertheless, Doc made decent time, only just under half an hour walking. ‘Better safe than sorry, I suppose.’

As Doc was about to go through the nether portal into the shopping district, he remembered hearing about how Scar had perished. Doc decided to instead take Grian’s nether portal and enter the overworld through his base. Grian’s base was a bit out of the way of the shopping district, but the gremlin’s main base seemed to be one of the few places untouched by Demise.

Doc made quick work flying from Grian’s base over to the shopping district and decided to see if Scar had restocked two of his shops: Cherry Computers and Spooky House Glass Shop. Doc needed glass for the raid farm and could always use redstone, so Scar’s shops were not a bad place to test whether the Demised Hermits were still even doing much of anything. However, Doc was unsure as to whether Scar would have restocked either shop anyway as his stock was always cleaned out the moment it was replenished.

As Doc approached the shopping district, however, the same problem that plagued New Hermitville also affected the shopping district: it was without a single light source and was chock full of mobs, save for what appeared to be some lights emanating from Sahara. ‘I swear, if those nuts are up to something, I’ll kill them myself.’ Doc doubted the Sahara trio was behind the light displacement, but nevertheless, the thought still arose with Sahara proper being well lit. Doc decided stopping at Sahara may be a better decision than trying to fight the hordes of mobs waiting for him down below.

Doc, muttering to himself as he enters Sahara, “it may not hurt to message Iskall and Mumbo and see if they’re available. More to keep off the mobs.” Doc walked up to the superpowered machine of Sahara and noticed that there was in fact stock in Sahara and decided to order some observers. Placing his order and leaning against the wall, Doc pulls out his communicator and begins to message Mumbo and Iskall before hearing a familiar pair of Hermits discussing redstone build ideas from above.

“Iskall? Mumbo? Is that you two up there?” Doc shouts, his voice wavering a bit, not realizing how nervous he sounded.

Flying down from the balcony up above, with their dragon heads framed around their faces, Iskall responds, “Yeah, Doc! What’s up? Are you feeling okay? You sounded a bit on edge.” Iskall, being so perceptive thanks to his days as a hitman, can easily able to pick up on Doc’s nervousness.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was just about to message you guys, so I was a bit caught off guard is all.” Doc was pretty sure that everything else that was going on happened to be why he was a bit nervous, but he’d reveal that to them in due time.

“Doc, what happened to your shoulder? You’re pretty bloody? I think I have a potion of regeneration in one of my shulkers here,” Mumbo says setting down an end chest, rifling through its contents.

Doc hadn’t quite given much thought to how he’d look to anybody he came across because, quite frankly, he wasn’t anticipating running into anybody. Then again, these were two of the Hermits he could trust. ‘I can trust all the Hermits though, can’t I?’ Doc wasn’t so sure. Things just weren’t adding up about everything, and Zedaph not responding to his message wasn’t helping his anxiety about the situation any. “Did either of you happen to go outside into the shopping district since nightfall came?”

Iskall, raising an eyebrow in concern at Doc’s odd question, “No, we’ve been fixing up some redstone issues with Sahara and were just about to head out when you called our names.”

“Iskall, do you mind taking a quick flight around the shopping district for me and tell me if you see anything out of the ordinary while Mumbo finds the potion of regeneration?”

“Odd request, but okay,” Iskall says with a laugh. However, less than thirty seconds later, and a toss of a potion of regeneration from Mumbo to Doc, Iskall comes tumbling back into the main area of Sahara. Iskall’s face had gone pale and he seemed to be sweating, something that he shouldn’t be doing when it was just a simple flight on a cool night. “Doc, is perhaps the thing you’re concerned about the fact that there is no light in the shopping district?”

“The shopping district is what?” Mumbo says, surprised.

“Yes, Iskall, that is exactly what I was concerned about. It was the same at New Hermitville. It is the reason my shoulder was all bloody. On top of that, the mobs that I fought trying to get to the portal in New Hermitville seemed to be stronger too, and in far greater numbers than usual.”

Mumbo, now realizing the same issue that Doc and Iskall were concerned about chimed in, “That does seem odd. Every light is out? Like, I mean, Sahara is still lit up. Maybe it was just because Iskall and I were here and so that didn’t have it glitch? How did that even happen? I mean, I’m sure it’s just a glitch that we need to inform Xisuma about.” Mumbo started trailing off, realizing the absurdity of the situation.

“I don’t know, Mumbo. That’s why I was about to message you guys. I suspected you two may have had a hand in the failed lighting of the area.” Mumbo was taken aback, and Iskall only scoffed.

“Why would we even do such a thing? If you really think we’d go through the effort of clearing out all the light sources here and in New Hermitville to make a quick buck, then you’d be quite wrong!” Mumbo said, raising his voice throughout.

“No, I’m not accusing you. It was just suspicious, is all,” Doc said as he glared in Mumbo’s direction.

“Either way,” Iskall said trying to break up the near argument about to unfold. Mumbo had not gotten rest in some time and needed sleep. Iskall was sure that’s why Mumbo had gotten quickly upset. “Why didn’t you just go to bed and sleep it off, if you were concerned, Doc? Like, I wouldn’t have taken the risk to fight so many mobs in an area that’s so normally lit up. But you did, and I’ve been way more reckless than you’ve been with Demise. What’s going on, dude?”

Doc harrumphed as he slid down the wall, “Yeah, I could’ve gone to sleep, but I’m concerned over Zedaph. And I’m worried that Joe may be right.” Doc’s words slowly crawled to a whisper as he said the last part.

“What do you mean, Joe being right?” said Mumbo, having cooled down at Doc’s seemingly demure attitude.

And so, Doc explained what Joe had told him hours before and how Doc was going to check up on Zedaph, but no response ever came. Doc explained how he decided he was going to see if he could find Zedaph anywhere on the main island because Doc didn’t remember where Zedaph’s base was, or if he even had one. Along the way, Doc realized he hadn’t seen any of the Demised Hermits build anything outside of the old Halloween district and was going to check if they were even restocking their shops but got too nervous to try and enter Scar’s shops alone, with such an abundance of mobs. Doc finished his story by describing how he ended up at Sahara. It took quite a bit longer than Doc intended.

“That’s wild, dude, but we can help,” Mumbo said.

“Yeah! We’re all Hermits, and I’m sure they’re just playing their parts,” Iskall pitched in.

“I’m… Not so sure. It’s just, the more this goes on, the more suspicious it seems, you know? In fact, when was the last time either of you two even talked to Grian? He’s been demised for a couple of weeks now and I haven’t seen him once in chat!”

“It’s been, well, Mumbo? Weren’t you at the Dragon Bro funeral for Grian and False? They were there, weren’t they?”

“Yeah! But, now that Doc points it out, they did seem a bit odd. Grian didn’t even joke with me and Bdubs about the whole Dragon Bro thing being a cult. He kind of just brushed it off. And False only spoke when she gave her speech, and that was it of it. I honestly don’t think I’ve seen Grian since then.”

Iskall was pacing by this point and had stopped when Mumbo’s voice hushed to a whisper at the end of his train of thoughts. “Doc, I hate to admit it, but I think maybe Joe might be on to something. We’ll help you check the shops and search around to find Zedaph. You said Joe went to the Deadquarters alone?”

“Yeah,” Doc replied.

“Well, we will have to meet up with him tomorrow morning. If someone can conquer that mess of Cub’s, I’m sure it would be Joe.” Iskall laughed dryly and began to head for the exit of Sahara. Doc and Mumbo followed.

“We’ll make our first stop at Cherry and then head to the Glass Shop afterwards. Then, once we check those out, we will look for Zed. He’s around here somewhere, I’m certain,” Iskall said, and he, Doc, and Mumbo were off.

Moments later, a figure gracefully flying down from the shadows of the upper level of Sahara snickered, his eyes as red as the color of what his shirt once was. “It looks like this game of cat and mouse just got a whole lot more interesting,” he said as he pulled out his communicator and clicked on the direct message option rather than the group chat.

Grian: Cleo, mind sending Cub and Scar my way? I may need some backup…

Chapter Text

Chapter IV – Never Forget Those Eyes

The trio decided not to head straight to Cherry, but instead take a short flight over the shopping district to scope out the darkness that encompassed the area. “You two weren’t joking when you said the shopping district went dark.” Mumbo’s jaw was slightly ajar at the sight.

“Yeah,” Doc responded, “New Hermitville’s the same way. It just seems so dead, like we’re encroaching on someone else’s world.” Doc almost seemed remorseful at the situation. How could Mumbo or Iskall blame him, though? They enjoyed good fun, but this would take a lot of effort to fix. Not to mention the impracticality of it all. It made traversing the shopping district quite challenging.

After having spent a few minutes gaping at the now darkened shopping district, the trio flew slowly around Cherry. “Two zombies and a creeper in the immediate vicinity. I’ll take the creeper if you two take out the zombies,” Iskall said, divebombing the creeper, sword in hand.

Doc looked over to Mumbo, smirking. “I’ll go right, you go left!” Doc, at this point, was flying to the left of Mumbo. In order to attack his quarry, Doc had to swerve in front of Mumbo, causing a mild panic from the mustached redstoner as he tried to avoid a collision. Moments later, after regaining his balance, he could see Doc’s trident sink into the zombie.

‘It’s good to know Doc is in somewhat higher spirits than he was only a few minutes before,’ Mumbo thought to himself with a huff. ‘He always does enjoy a good fight.’ Mumbo landed suddenly in front of his target, charging at the zombie with his sword in hand. Making a wide swing and hitting its mark, Mumbo dealt a decent amount of damage to the creature.

Truth be told, Mumbo was not the best fighter. To him, holding a sword felt awkward and clunky, and the trident only multiplied those problems. He much preferred tinkering in redstone than actual combat. Beggars can’t be choosers, though. Even with his lack of skill, Mumbo could still hold his own against the various mobs the world threw at him, and a simple zombie was no exception.

Mumbo rushed the zombie again, using brute force to his advantage. This time, the blow dug deep into the shoulder of the zombie, sending the creature up into a poof of smoke. Mumbo proceeded to rush into Cherry so as to not attract more mobs to the Hermits inside.

“Hmm. It doesn’t seem Scar resupplied anything I’ve looked through. What about you, Doc?” Iskall said, rooting through some of the chests on one end of the store. Doc tore through the other half, looking just as aggressive.

“Nah, man. Nothing in any of these.”

By this time, Mumbo had realized the frames where the displays for Cherry products were also void of items. Mumbo remembered putting a diamond in one of the frames only a couple of days ago. That brought a concerning thought to mind. “Hey, guys? Are there any diamonds in any of the chests? I mean, I was only here a couple days earlier, and there were diamonds in the chests and I even paid a diamond for all of the display pieces because I needed the supply.” At the mention of his foolish purchase, the other two Hermits gave him a weird look, but quickly hid their grimaces with similar ones of concerns.

“None in mine.”

“None in mine, either.”

“So, Scar just came by to collect profits and not restock? I mean it wouldn’t be the first time, but doesn’t he normally close up shop so customers don’t get upset with him? I’m sure it’s just Scar doing Scar things,” Mumbo said with a dry laugh. He was thinking out loud again. He only normally did that when he was building, but then again, the gears in Mumbo’s head were spinning the same way. This whole thing was like a puzzle to him in the same way redstone was, so it was no surprise how his antics would react.

“He does, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions just yet. It seems the demised Hermits are at least active, just not in the way we were hoping. We should still check out the Glass Shop first, and maybe a couple others in the district just to make sure.” Iskall started following Mumbo’s line of thinking, hoping that he was not overexaggerating the situation out of sleep deprivation. Scar could have very well just collected the profits and intended to restock. But to not even message the chat that your store will need time to be restocked? It was just peculiar is all, he was certain.

Doc started nodding his head as he turned to exit Cherry. “Well, there isn’t much more for us to do here. We should get going to the Glass Shop.”

The trio set off towards Scar’s glass shop, once again doing a few laps around it. Noticing that there were no mobs in the immediate vicinity, the three Hermits landed in front of the shop and made their way inside.

As the Hermits rifled through the chests, they expected to find at least some stock in the shop. No Hermit would need every color of every kind of glass. Yet, the three Hermits came up empty-handed.

“Not a thing here either,” Doc groaned. “No one ever needs this much glass. I’m beginning to think we have all the evidence we need from the shops that the other Hermits have quit restocking their shops, or at least, Scar has. Heck, he may have even been the one to clear out the glass.” Doc chuckled a bit at the thought. Scar was one of the best builders on the server, especially when it came to detail. Doc got to witness that firsthand at Area 77, so it wouldn’t surprise him if Scar was building some giant build that required a ton of glass.

“I’m not quite convinced,” Mumbo spoke quietly, “I mean, maybe Scar just hasn’t restocked this store either?” The more Mumbo spoke, the more ludicrous he realized he sounded. “It could just be a Scar thing, you know? What about some of the stores Cub is in charge of, or TFC’s rocks store? Sahara for once is restocked. You even ordered from us, and Grian works at Sahara!” Mumbo began looking back and forth between Iskall and Doc, hoping to see some semblance of agreement, but he found none.

Doc figured it wouldn’t hurt to check out at least one other shop ran by a demised Hermit. Mumbo brought up TFC’s shop. It might not be the worst one to stop at and probably wasn’t rigged like some of the other more traversed shops were. Heck, he still had to stop back at Sahara and pick up his order of observers, so they may as well head back that way! “Well, I did order some observers from you two, so we may as well swing by Sahara. TFC’s stone shop is nearby too, so we can check out his shop. I’m positive that TFC has kept tabs on his stone shop, so it should be restocked.”

Iskall nodded, taking in both of the others’ contributions. “I think that’s a good course of action, and if something is awry, we can then use Sahara’s meeting room to discuss our next course of action.”

The other two Hermits sounded their approval and the three were off, heading first to TFC’s stone shop.

There was only one spider near the door of the shop, which Doc and Iskall made quick work of disposing, each throwing their trident at the unaware arachnid.

The trio landed and quickly rushed inside, stopping the moment they closed the doors behind them. “How? How are all of the chests just gone! I mean, I haven’t honestly been in here in some time, but I know that TFC always keeps his shop in stock because there are other Hermits who do need his stone! He’s still got to be the same TFC, right?” Mumbo exclaimed, holding his hands up to his head in frustration. The lack of sleep was starting to creep through his normally calm exterior. Adding onto that, of course, was the fact that there was a very real possibility that he and his friends were in actual danger much larger than the game they were playing.

Doc was also staring in disbelief, now trying to grasp this new reality. Doc was trying to find something, anything, in the little building TFC made as his shop. However, he found nothing.

“No use waiting here, then. We should head back to Sahara before the mobs start coming in our direction.” Although he could see the first rays of the morning start to creep over the horizon, Iskall was not going to stay stuck in a small store in the most traversed area of the server. If they wanted a chance at figuring everything out, they were going to have to regroup somewhere where mobs could not spawn at a moment’s notice, and where the trio was not easily seen by others.

Just as they were about to leave, however, all three of their communicators beeped, notifying them of a new message in the chat, something that has seemingly died in the past couple of weeks. So, naturally, all three rushed to their communicators, hoping that it was some sign telling them that this was all a misunderstanding. What they saw, though, was the nail in the coffin for any semblance of the opposite.

joehillssays: Hey Doc! I found a journal of Cub’s! It is important and I am out of time. It is under one of the chairs in the library of the second floor!

Joe! In the madness, Doc had completely forgotten that Joe was still alive! To top it off, it seemed that Joe may have found further proof to this mystery.

All three Hermits nodded at each other as they rushed out of TFC’s shop. The closest nether portal that wasn’t trapped was the nether portal at Sahara. “Since we’re all heading in the direction of Sahara, I take it we all have the same idea. The portal there should still not be trapped. I took it yesterday when I needed supplies from my base,” Iskall’s voice bellowed over the wind and rockets as they rushed to Sahara. 

Doc knew he should have not let Joe go into the Deadquarters himself, but at the time, he was not as concerned about the whole situation. Yesterday, he still thought Joe was just overthinking things; that he was simply overanalyzing the situation like he tends to do. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just that it numbed Doc’s ability to believe when Joe was on to something – exhibit A being the current situation. Now, Doc felt pretty rotten. One of the last remaining Hermits was in the lion’s den. He could only pray Joe made it out safely.

The trio hastily landed in Sahara and were rushing over to the portal, about to make their way through before they heard a familiar voice make its presence known. “You know, I wouldn’t go through that portal if I were any of you, unless you want to end up just like False did a couple weeks ago. Who knows what awaits you on the other side?” The three Hermits whirled around to see if they heard who they thought they heard. Sure enough, there, leaning over the balcony, was none other than the third Architect, Grian himself.

 “Grian? We haven’t seen you in weeks, dude. Is everything okay?” Mumbo, ever the worker, had been feeling like something was missing in his day to day life. He thought he was just feeling the force of burnout. He thought working with Iskall on something different from his day to day operations would help, but it just was not accomplishing that goal.

A spark lit in Mumbo when he heard Grian’s voice. He realized what he was missing – the other member to their trio, the energy gremlin himself. Grian was talking to him! It must be a sign that this whole thing was a misunderstanding. Certainly! That had to be it! Mumbo could not help but begin to ramble, finally getting to see his friend again after so long, “I’ve been worried sick about you. Heck! I’ve even been showing up to meetings and you’re still not there. Like, I really miss you, dude.” Mumbo began trailing off, noticing something about Grian seemed… off. He couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Sure, his skin was all gray now, but something just made him feel uneasy.

“Aww. Mumbo. You were worried about little, old me?” Grian teased as he jumped off the balcony, gracefully landing thanks to his elytra. “I must say, I’m flattered. How about we have some fun, like good old times, eh?” Grian spoke with a sickeningly sweet smile as he slowly jaunted towards Mumbo, who was closest of the three to Grian.

Mumbo flinched back when Grian punctuated his last word. Mumbo let off a shaky laugh, “What do you mean? What kind of games? Grian, I just want to talk; we haven’t in a couple weeks now and I’m just worried for you, dude. You haven’t been around. How about we play a game another day, maybe when-” Mumbo was immediately cutoff as Iskall pulled Mumbo backwards with a jolt, while Doc moved in front of him, trident in hand.

“That’s not our Grian anymore, Mumbo,” Doc said with a snarl. “Take a look at his eyes. Does that look like Grian to you?”

Doc was right. Mumbo’s entire face fell at the realization. Taking a wider view, Grian’s entire look was alien for his face. He looked cocky, like he just knew something they didn’t, like he had power over them. His smile was sinister, even. The largest telltale of all, however, was the piercing red eyes that Grian now possessed. Grian’s eyes were always filled with such joy. Mumbo could never forget the way his best friend’s eyes would glisten whenever he had a story to tell; the look of wonder they held when Mumbo would talk about redstone. And how could Mumbo forget the mirth present in Grian’s eyes whenever the hermit would pull a prank? He couldn’t, and that’s why this Grian in front of him looked so foreign, so fake. It’s been said that eyes are dimensions into the soul and if you wanted to know something about a person, just look into their eyes, and you will be able to see everything you need in order to understand them. Mumbo could never forget the look in Grian’s eyes. Grian’s – no, his eyes were filled with nothing but arrogance, nothing but sinister, destructive pride. This was no longer Grian – Grian was long gone. And in the place of his best friend stood this thing. This was one of them.

Everything started falling in place for Mumbo – the shops, Joe having run off, all of his friends having practically disappeared and becoming unreachable, Grian. He had been praying that this was all just his imagination catching up on him, that his lack of sleep was making him become paranoid. One by one, they each fell. None the wiser to the destruction this game was causing. Mumbo was upset. His friends were gone, and in their place stood them. He just wanted it all to go back to normal.

“Well, I guess if you three are going to make it harder than it has to be, I suppose I have no choice.” At that, Grian made quick work of rushing Doc, trident now in hand.

Mumbo wanted to run. He wanted to get out of this place. He needed time to process everything that just felt dumped onto him, but his only path was blocked by the skirmish unfolding between Doc and Grian.

Iskall, on the other hand, wasn’t so shell-shocked, now charging into the fray, diamond sword in hand. Iskall immediately flanked Grian, now at his side. He tries to swing in for a hit but fails to even get halfway before his body is thrown across the room, away from the fight and Mumbo, as a familiar capitalist duo strolls inside.

Grian avoids another stab by Doc’s trident and proceeds to bounce backwards, joining up with the Convex duo, glancing between Cub and Scar. “It took you two long enough to get here. What took so long?”

“Well, we had to set up the trap first. We can’t let anybody get an easy escape, now can we?” Scar said, smirking, pulling out his diamond sword. “And anyway, we’re here now, so what difference does it make?”

Iskall was pulling himself off of the ground, now separated from Doc and Mumbo. They were just about to charge in at each other as the group heard a chorus of beeping go off. Although Iskall would have liked to check his communicator, he’d rather not lose sight of the three demised Hermits standing before them. It appeared Doc and Mumbo held the same thoughts. They could not let the threat out of their sight.

Grian, on the other hand, did not, smirking as he read the notification. “So, then, boys. Fifteen down and three to go, eh? Let’s wrap up this game today! I can take Doc. You two can handle Iskall, can’t you? We all know Mumbo couldn’t put up any sort of fight. Maybe throw him a vex or two to keep him preoccupied,” Grian said as he chuckled, looking at the insulted redstoner, shaking behind Doc.

“Yeah, I suppose we can take on Iskall,” Cub said as he summoned two vexes and pointed at Mumbo, “and of course I wouldn’t forget about our mustached friend over there.”

That was the moment the mayhem of the battle began.

Chapter Text

Chapter V – Good Days, I Insist On Dying

“Well, well, well! Look who we have here! A trespasser within our mansion! Perhaps you’d like to take off your jacket and stay awhile! We’ve got a nice, warm grave all ready for you, Joe!”

Joe had really been hoping that his gut reaction to entering the mansion was wrong – that he might actually get out of here alive. That did not seem too likely now. Worse yet was who was standing only a few paces behind him. How could he have been so foolish to not investigate the room? Why didn’t’ he make sure there were no secret entrances? How could he have prepared himself to see her again?

Slowly turning around, trying to keep up a poker face, Joe calmly spoke, “Cleo, it has been far too long. But you see, I really do have to be on my way now. Resources to gather, things to build; you understand, right?”

“No, Joe. I don’t think I do. You trespassed, and do you know what we pirates do with trespassers snooping around our gold Joe?” Cleo started to smile darkly, grabbing her sword at her hip. “We kill them so they can’t run with the whereabouts of our bounty!” At that Cleo made a lunge for Joe.

Joe had the benefit of distance between Cleo and himself and, although she closed that gap in mere seconds, that space gave Joe just enough time to brandish his sword to block her incoming blow.

“Come on, Joe! You know you don’t stand a chance against me. Why even fight?”

Joe and Cleo were currently having a contest of strength, with their swords pushed against each other. Cleo had the initial upper hand due to having charged at Joe, but she was slowly losing her advantage. Joe was eventually able to push her back, making her stance wobble and forcing her to back off to regain her footing.

“Because I want my friend back!” Joe yelled with tears brimming at his eyes. “What happened to you? You don’t even talk to me anymore! You don’t even look like yourself anymore! I thought this was supposed to be a game!”

Joe wasn’t a weak man by any standards. He did everything the hard way, not because he was inefficient or stupid, but because it kept him strong and vigilant, just in case his past caught up to him. Sure, everyone says they don’t remember their pasts, but Joe remembers his, he just doesn’t want to, so he tries to forget. He has a feeling the others do the same.

This game, though, it sure seems like the apocalypse he tried so hard to run from.

For a moment, Cleo’s face showed signs of recognition and remorse. For a moment, her eyes flickered back from their glowing green entirety to the eyes of his friend he knew all too well. But as soon as it was there, it vanished, replaced again with her.

“Well, your friend is gone, Joe,” she replied snidely. “Your friends are gone, Joe. The others? Mumbo? Doc? Iskall? They’re not far behind. Grian, Cub, and Scar will make sure of that. Just give up!” With each word, Cleo took one small step closer before she was right in front of a very terrified Joe.

“I don’t get what you’re planning, Joe, but look! You no longer have a base! Your friends are gone! Your served has fallen! You have failed!” During her monologue, Cleo was getting closer and closer to a distracted Joe until she was within striking range. He heard the wind whip around the blade of a sword. Joe was able to put up his sword just in time to block the majority of the blow, but he was easily knocked over, his sword clattering to the ground, out of his grasp and out of reach.

During Joe’s fall, he landed away from the staircase, with Cleo blocking the exit. To get to his sword, Joe would have to run past Cleo; Joe was effectively cornered, with only the fireplace behind him.

‘Wait! Cleo had to have come out of there somewhere! There must be a secret entrance somewhere in the library!’

While Cleo was recovering from the heave of her sword, Joe bolted back into the library, grabbing the book underneath the chair. ‘Might as well just grab this and take it to Doc myself,’ Joe thought as he ducked behind the chair at another one of Cleo’s erratic swings.

Joe quickly scanned the walls of the library and noticed a painting on the wall opposite of the chairs. ‘That has to be it!’ Dodging another one of Cleo’s blows, Joe sprinted to the painting, falling through it into the thin corridor behind it.

Joe began rifling through his inventory, trying to determine what would handle his attacker best. ‘Some potions, some cobblestone, a bucket of water, a bucket of lava, some golden carrots. None of this will work! Wait! Bucket of lava! If I just set this down here, with the cobble around it, she’ll fall right in! This is perfect!’ Joe set the cobblestone in front of him and dumped the lava on the other side, protecting him from the harmful liquid. He also drank one of the potions, a potion of invisibility, just to confuse Cleo further. All of this happened in the ten seconds Joe had without a moment to spare, before Cleo barreled into the lava, forcing her to respawn elsewhere almost immediately.

“Haha! I did it! I can’t believe that actually worked! No time to lose; she’ll be on my trail soon, so I have to get out of here!”

Joe set some more cobblestone down where the lava blocked his way to the painting and ran out into the library, grabbing his sword as he rushed down the stairs and out the front of the Deadquarters, jumping off the ledge and into the swampy water below.

The Hermit began to dredge through the swampy water towards the location of the nether portal. ‘Now if I can just get to the por-’ his thoughts were cut off as he looked at the skull that once housed the nether portal to the Halloween district, or rather, the crater that now sat in its place. The portal was there yesterday. He supposed that Cub never did intend him on leaving. ‘Perhaps that’s why Cleo charged at me in the Deadquarters. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by that either. They are not playing by the rules anymore. They want us dead.’

Joe took another look at the Deadquarters, then past Scar’s newly built mansion to its side. ‘JoePup is over there somewhere still. I could grab him and start the long trek back to the main island.’ Joe then looked to the graveyard and the buildings erected by the Demised. ‘I can also investigate some more. No doubt Cleo’s raised the siren to the others. With the invisibility potion still in effect, I think I can at least sabotage some of their efforts to get back too. First though, I’m going to get JoePup this book and send him on his way. At the very least, I can catch up to him afterwards.’

Joe shot off towards where he knew his pet would be waiting for him. Just past the hill, there sat his obedient friend. Joe held the book in one hand and a steak in the other. “Hey there, buddy! It’s me, Joe! I just have a potion effect on me.” JoePup recognized his owners voice immediately and took the steak from Joe’s hand.

“Now, little buddy,” Joe said as he scratched behind the dog’s ears, “I don’t know if I’m gonna make it back safe, so I need you to do me a little favor.” Joe held out the book for the dog to take. “I know that they are still alive out there, no matter what they say. Please bring them this book. I. I don’t know if it will help them, but there may be some clues they can use to figure out how to beat them.”

The dog, with what resolve could be seen in its eyes, looked at Joe, took the book, and began to run away. ‘Godspeed, my loyal companion. Now, those buildings.’

With that thought, Joe drank another invisibility potion and made his way over to the buildings. He took another bucket of lava from his inventory and burned any items he came across in the chests. ‘If I’m actually wrong about this whole thing, which is quite slim, I am in so much trouble.’

Joe went from building to building and stumbled upon a building filled with chests to the brim with TNT. ‘Oh yeah. I am so gonna get banned if I’m wrong about this. I think I’m going to get rid of the Deadquarters. That ought to put them back some.’

He pulled out an ender chest and took out some mostly empty shulker boxes from within and filled them to the brim with as much TNT as he could grab. ‘I’ve got four more minutes on my invisibility potion before I’m out of luck and exposed. I have to make this quick.’

Joe bolted out, putting on his elytra, and rocketing up to the Deadquarters. He began rushing through the halls and the exterior, placing down as much TNT as possible in his short timeframe. Eventually his invisibility potion wore out, but with no one yet in sight, he continued piling up TNT on the interior. He utilized every last block of it, before realizing he didn’t have a flint and steel.

‘This is inconvenient, but if I set this lava down, it may light one on fire and start the chain reaction!’ Joe did just that and was about to rush out the front when he noticed someone standing there at the entrance.

“Well Joe. It seems I caught you just in time,” Cleo said with an evil grin. “You could have run, you know? It was a good day for you. Why do you just keep on insisting on dying?”

“Because I know that what I have to do is slow you down and give them any advantage they can get, Cleo. You were once my friend, now my adversary, and you shall be the one to fall today!” Joe took out his sword and rocket launched himself at Cleo. Such raw force knocked Cleo over.

Joe swung the sword down at where Cleo’s head was, but she rolled out of the way at the last moment. She followed through her roll by swinging out her feet and tripping Joe, who fell on his back.

Cleo got to her feet before Joe could regain his bearings and stabbed her sword into his stomach.

Joe went wide eyed as he felt the sword pin him down, looking up at Cleo. “Looks like I win, Joe. You couldn’t use your flint and steel to set off the TNT, let alone survive. You’ve lost,” Cleo showed a sickening smile.

In the distance, Joe heard the unmistakable hiss of TNT lighting on fire, moments from igniting. Just as he started to lose consciousness, Joe had his response, “You know, Cleo. I may not have survived, but neither will this base. Do you hear that? That’s why I insist on dying. It’s the sound of a revolution, because even when I’ve had days on the road and I was feeling alone, I knew. I knew it all when I was months away from home. I thought I was out there on my own, but I know now that I wasn’t.” There was the hiss of the igniting TNT, Cleo now fully aware of the situation she was in. Death by explosion was painful, as it tore you molecule from painful molecule.

“But you know Cleo. I’ve had bad days, where I kept on fighting. And I’ve had good days, where I’d only insist on dying. But every single day, I had work to do. So, I lived those days, just to keep them exciting.” At that last word, Joe let off one final smile as he poofed to dust and his items and experience laid where he once stood.

Cleo’s communicator beeped in her pocket at Joe’s death message, but she didn’t even have a moment to escape. The explosion started up above her. With the halls lined with TNT, Cleo was enveloped in the explosion, the Deadquarters soon following.

Thousands of feet away on his perch on the hill, JoePup looked over his shoulder and saw the giant stone building in the sky swathed with fiery ruin, with nothing remaining. He waited a moment, hoping to see his master on his magical wings come flying towards him, but nothing showed. He let out a quiet whine as he turned around and continued on his way on the mission his master sent him on.

He felt groggy, with a splitting headache. The area was dimly lit by a green light across the stone room from him. His wrists were bound with some metallic surface, but his arms were not restricted, per se. Just held down. He felt so tired, but he heard the click of a heavy door as it slid open. The soft, yellow light hurt his eyes, but allowed him to see another figure in this dim stone cell, right where the green light once came.

Metal clicked across the floor as the new figure entered, a voice smooth as caramel speaking. “Good morning, Xisuma,” the figure spoke the name with such venom. He just couldn’t understand why. The name sounded familiar, but he could not quite pin down the draw to that familiarity. Who was Xisuma? Who was he? The name Joe came to mind, so he supposed that to be his name. He didn’t dare open his eyes much more than slits in case this new figure dared address him. “Here is your cup of tea. Your friend should be awake soon. I cannot wait for another new recruit. But I really can’t wait for the day you finally break.”

Chapter Text

Chapter VI – Half a Heart is Left but Don’t Die

The trio was split apart and it frightened Iskall. Iskall, at one end of the Sahara lobby, was dealing with Scar, Cub. The Concorp duo and Grian were between himself and his compatriots. He watched as Cub summoned the vexes to attack Mumbo. Mumbo was certainly not in his element. His stance was closed and, instead of a shield, he was holding a totem of undying, jittering in his left hand. His sword, shaking with just as much nervousness, was held haphazardly in his right.

Doc was not much better off. Grian and Doc were both experts with their tridents. They were easily unmatched on the server with the barbed weapon with the exception of course being each other. At the very least, Doc could fight well against the prankster. Then again, this Grian was far colder and more aggressive than the Grian Iskall considered a business partner.

Speaking of business, Iskall’s business adversaries from Concorp happen to be quickly advancing. Scar, shirtless and hulking, sword in hand, was running straight at Iskall, a dim white aura around his figure. Iskall shook his head momentarily. ‘No more overthinking. I have to deal with Tweedle-dee and Tweedledum before I worry about Mumbo and Doc.’ Iskall quickly pulled out his sword and blocked Scar’s incoming first strike, a powerful, jarring downward swing, shocking Iskall with the amount of force put behind it.

Scar used the momentum from his first swing that pushed Iskall back and did a back flip away from Iskall. Iskall temporarily lost his footing. ‘Scar has become quite a bit stronger since I last remember him being. I suppose I should have guessed that considering his figure.’ Scar did not give Iskall much of a chance to gather his bearings as he launched himself at the assassin with another strike. When he propelled himself forward at a breakneck speed, the white aura around him intensified momentarily. This time the sword slicing across from Iskall’s right.

Iskall noticed the attack before it could land and quickly tried to block it, trying to push Scar’s sword further away from the terraformer. Once accomplished, he slammed his head forward into Scar’s own, temporarily dazing the businessman. With Scar temporarily stunned, Iskall went to defeat the tycoon using another strike of his sword. However, before he could disarm Scar, the other half of Concorp was in the fray, blocking Iskall’s slashing sword with his own diamond blade. Cub quickly shifted back behind his partner, letting Scar take back over in the fight.

Iskall had momentarily forgotten that both halves of the Concorp duo were fighting him. Perhaps this fight would be a bit more challenging than he originally planned.

Meanwhile, Mumbo was dealing with his own problems. The vexes so kindly gifted by Cub were currently slicing at his poorly defended position. They danced around his pathetic swings. The vexes were fast and spun circles around his oafish slashes, taking each miss as an opportunity to teach Mumbo a tough lesson about openings. Each cut by the vexes’ blades were small, but mounting, first causing mild displeasure but now slowing down his attempts at attacking the hovering apparitions.

Mumbo was not built for fighting. Sure, he could defend himself from everyday mobs – zombies, skeletons, creepers. Heck, he could even fight shulkers when endbusting with Iskall – but vexes? No, these nuisances were normally only fought in mansions or during pillages raids – both situations which Mumbo actively avoided.

Mumbo was a large man, well over six feet in height. However, he was not heavy, but quite lean. He had some defined muscle through his years of building, but he wasn’t a bodybuilder by any means; he failed to have the bulging muscles Scar appeared to possess. He also wasn’t broad shouldered like Doc or Xisuma, being thinner figured, like Grian or Keralis.

To further his fighting troubles, he hadn’t had the chance to switch out his totem after he had put his shield away. That was a mistake – a mistake he was going to regret as one of the vexes now slashed at his face.

‘What a spoon you are! Getting distracted in your thoughts in the middle of a fight! You are better than this!’ Mumbo chastised himself as he tried to recompose himself.

No. Mumbo was not built for fighting. He was built for analyzing redstone machines. He was built for thinking. He would leave the doing for others. That’s why this fight was so foreign to him. He didn’t have time to analyze the best way to win. He didn’t have time to determine a fighting style. He never really considered a need to learn how to even use a sword further than a tool that would get him through his first few nights. He never thought he would have to fight another Hermit since the Civil War. Even then, he was just the mole, the analyzer, the machine.

Mumbo built his personality around his machines, his redstone contraptions. He was always so methodic in his work that many of the Hermits commented on how he could very well be just as mechanical as Biffa. He tested that theory once. It didn’t go well.

Another opening, another vex swooping down, slashing at his face, this time landing a deep gash in his cheek.

The redstoner could not think quickly on his feet and would rather spend his time perfecting those machines. He never wanted to fight with it being such a fast pace task.

He just needed to analyze the situation. Just like his machines. This fight was like one of his machines. Every redstone machine has some pattern it follows in order to fulfill its intended purpose and so do these mindless mobs.

Vexes, as random as they are, too have a pattern. As frazzled as Mumbo has become from being thrown into a fight alongside his last remaining friends. Being thrown into a world where he gained the knowledge that most of his friends were no longer really his friends, he still had his analytical mind working out a strategy. He had a sword, regardless of the fact that he could barely use it, and all he had to do was hit the vexes out of the sky. They had a pattern and just one moment of clarity showed it to him, so now he ought to use it.

The vexes’ paths were not difficult to predict, swooping down from two or three blocks up above. Then, they strike at the level of his chest, sometimes swinging at his face, other times at his arms. However, they never went below his waist. Following the attack, the vexes then continue their momentum past their victim about eight blocks out, continuing back up to their original position. They proceed to repeat the process.

Now the question was whether or not Mumbo possessed the ability to actually hit the vexes. As each vex continued their attacks on him, Mumbo was realizing that they were just too fast for his wide swings. He needed to get a lucky hit in on the dodgy vexes.

Mumbo wasn’t the only Hermit having trouble with speed. Doc was currently encountering his own issues with quick movements.

Grian had always been a fast man. Doc knew that from his encounters with the builder during the Civil War and then again during the Area 77 shenanigans. Grian was quick on his feet and an expert with the trident he wielded. Grian’s skill with the weapon was matched only by Doc’s own capability.

And right now, Doc was making a fool of himself.

Grian and Doc had been trading blows since the fighting started, each dodging the other’s attacks. However, Doc, fatigued from building the previous day and then lacking sleep during the night, was starting to slow down. The mistakes were becoming plentiful, giving Grian extra avenues for attack that he took full advantage of to exploit. A swing of the butt of Grian’s trident to the organic side of Doc’s head led to Doc becoming momentarily dazed. This gave Grian just enough time to stab his trident into Doc’s right shoulder. Doc’s mechanical arm recoiled at the intrusion and allowed for Doc to remove himself from the weapon. Doc had to retreat. He bounded backwards, using his trident to propel him backwards. Doc jumped five blocks backwards three times in rapid succession, now nearly to the wall. This gave him just enough time to reassess the fight before Grian, elytra flared, barreled towards the creeper cyborg.

In that rushed moment, the creeper realized an important flaw in Grian’s new fighting style: it was too aggressive for the cumbersome trident. When a fighter goes on the offensive, and fails to calculate their next move appropriately, techniques become sloppy and mistakes are made.

Once Doc had that moment to assess the situation, he noticed that this Grian was making plenty of these mistakes.

‘If I just keep a level head, I should be able to counter Grian’s every blow,’ Doc thought while blocking a strike from Grian. ‘And certainly, Grian will make a mistake and then I will pounce,’ then spinning around Grian so Grian’s back was now to the wall.

And a mistake Grian did make. He tried to stab the trident into Doc’s shoulder again but threw too much weight behind it. Doc was able to dodge it. When the builder lost his balance, Doc was able to hit him with the butt of his trident in the back of the head, which then caused Grian to launch the trident into and through one of the vexes sweeping at Mumbo, finally landing outside of Sahara.

Once back on his feet, Grian did not make any attempt at retrieving the trident. Instead, he pulled out his diamond sword and lunged at Doc.

The trident is a wonderful weapon. It can be enchanted to channel a lightning strike during a thunderstorm upon hitting a target. That was the environment Doc excelled in – the environment in which he could use every advantage his trident had to offer. Unfortunately, it was not raining. Lightning striking enchantments are not the trident’s only advantage, however. The trident is also three-pronged and far longer than any sword. Having triple sharpened points allows for two distinct advantages over the sword’s singular blade. The first is that three wounds are more potent than one; three areas of damage for which pain can be inflicted. The second is that if a weapon, such as a sword, gets caught in between the prongs, the trident’s prongs can be used as leverage to twist the sword out of the wielder’s grasp.

The best advantage of a trident is its range though. Of course, a trident can be launched and returned to the sender with loyalty but throwing the weapon during close range fighting leaves openings. A shield is difficult, if not impossible, to utilize while wielding a trident, even with experts such as himself. The trident is best used as a two-handed weapon. As a two-handed weapon, more power can be put behind its blows, so having a long handle to grip is important. This lends to its advantage of range, not launching range, but stabbing range.

The trident’s distinct disadvantage is its advantage though. Although it is powerful, it is clunky and can be difficult to wield in a swift manner. If an adversary gets too close to the user, it could spell doom and cause the user to be outmaneuvered and hastily defeated.

Grian held this disadvantage against Doc like cocoa beans for a parrot.

Grian is light on his feet. He is quite smaller than Doc, not just in height but also in stature, with Grian’s shoulders and form being narrower than the creeper’s. Furthermore, Grian was an expert with his elytra, being able to utilize them to their fullest extent even in battle, propelling himself into close quarters with an opponent.

Doc remembered the days of the Civil War. Team Star thought their worst opponent on the battlefield would be Iskall, and having Xisuma, Falsesymmetry, and himself all on the same team seemed extremely unfair. How wrong he was. Grian had beaten each of them in PvP combat at least once, and Doc and Xisuma at the same time at one point. Grian’s reflexed were so honed that he could practically see an attack before it happened.

This Grian was no different. He was on top of Doc in a heartbeat. The sword was easy to maneuver. The elytra flawless to operate. Doc was too slow. Grian broke through Doc’s cumbersome defense of the trident and shrunk Doc’s options to counterstrike. He was quickly on the defensive. So much for Grian’s aggressiveness being sloppy. The tactic is now causing Doc to be unable to properly assess the situation. Even worse, Doc can no longer retreat, now having backed himself into a corner of Sahara. He could try and fly up to the ledge, but Grian is too close, too aggressive, and far too skillful with an elytra.

Then it happened.

Doc slipped up. No. Slipping up would be a simple flaw – one that may hinder the goal but ultimately not affect the outcome past extra necessary effort.

Doc failed.

He overanalyzed. He moved too slow. He failed and he was to pay the price for that failure.

Grian got in close – too close – and was able to play Doc and force his stance wide and open. Grian’s sword, now close, cut down hard and fast into Doc’s right shoulder. Forceful. Grian had more than enough strength in his short, quick swing to break through Doc’s mechanical arm.

Screaming one throaty, painful scream, Doc fell.

A clean cut. Doc, now on the ground, his mechanical arm severed from him, started to feel overwhelmed, too much sensory input entering his brain. Grian was chuckling above him, turning his attention elsewhere, as Doc’s vision slowly began blurring.

Iskall, though faring better than Doc, had nowhere near the stamina Doc had while fighting. Iskall was a trained assassin, yes. That did not warrant near unlimited energy. Doc did not have unlimited energy but could rely on his cybernetics when he gets fatigued, at least for a short while.

Iskall had a cybernetic diamond eye. He got it installed to replace his glass eye shortly before joining Hermitcraft. He originally had it implemented for a mission of his – the last mission he performed before joining Hermitcraft.

‘Good memories, but now is probably not the best time to be reminiscing on the past,’ Iskall scolded himself while dodging another one of Scar’s swings.

Cub, for the most part, had been remaining behind, allowing Scar to do most of the fighting. He only intervened when he had to stop what would have been a successful blow by Iskall, whether by using his sword to deflect an attack, or his magic to slow down Iskall’s swing.

So, when a stray trident killed one of Cub’s vexes and Cub was distracted, Iskall took full advantage of the situation. With Cub distracted, Scar’s aura disappeared, and Scar seemed visibly weaker with his bulkiness from his muscles decreasing considerably. Iskall rushed Scar, propelling himself forward the couple blocks necessary using his elytra and a rocket, and dropped his shoulder upon impact. The assassin toppled the builder, straddled his chest, and stabbed downward, already looking at his next target.

He may be an assassin, and these people may no longer be his friends, but he needed every excuse in the book to not look at Scar. He didn’t want to see the face of his friend, life draining from his eyes, body turning to smoke as he respawned elsewhere.

When the body beneath him dissipated, Iskall moved to his feet, again propelling himself forward, this time towards a stunned Cub. However, Cub’s attention was now fully on Iskall and the Convex man was prepared for Iskall’s attack. He raised his sword, deflecting Iskall’s incoming strike, diverting it away.

Iskall and Cub fought for dominance, swords swinging and charging, deflecting and averting, each trying to gain the advantage over the other. Iskall did not dare give Cub the amount of room he had given Scar. Scar had been physically stronger than Iskall, though he suspected it was due in part to the magic Cub had been using earlier. Iskall could not afford Scar to get too close and deal too much damage.

Cub was the opposite, though. If Iskall gave Cub too much space, he may use that same magic to his advantage. He had to apply pressure, constantly and overwhelmingly. However, that tactic cannot go on forever. Iskall could feel the ache in his muscles as the fight wore on, fatigue seeping into him with each strike. Cub, on the other hand, looked no more tired than he was when this whole fight started.

‘Why can’t I just land a single successful hit! Cub’s never been good at defending himself. It’s why he’s always stayed behind Scar in fights. He’s good at long range, but never with close quarters combat!’ Iskall could feel it. No, he could see it with his own eyes. Cub wasn’t just keeping up with him anymore.

Cub was toying with him.

Cub let him wear himself ragged, without so much as breaking a sweat. A precise swing after an expertly poised defense, forced Iskall to awkwardly block the incoming blow. When he was defenseless from the left, Cub swung around, following his original strike through to hit Iskall with the butt of his sword.

If it was just that, it would have been simple. Cub was malicious. Cub was dastardly. Cub was precise. And right now, toying with Iskall, he was downright cruel.

Cub didn’t just hit Iskall with the butt of his sword, he hit his diamond eye with the butt of his sword. Iskall’s eye was cracked, his left side vision split in two. When he tried to focus, it only became worse.

A scream from Doc only made it worse, overloading his senses, manifesting into a persistent migraine. The mechanics inside of the cybernetics began to malfunction, overloading him, giving him one sudden electrical jolt, before shutting down.

The electrical shock was jarring and had overwhelmed Iskall’s already fatigued body and overloaded mind, sending him along the same path Doc had only moments earlier, letting out a quick shout and collapsing to the ground.

Mumbo’s luck seemed to have been looking up. A trident, most likely Grian’s, had just gone flying by him, taking one of the vexes down with it.

‘One down, one to go! Now, if I can just get a proper swing in with this blade, I should be able to get rid of this vex!’ Mumbo, only having to worry about the one vex, was now able to defend the incoming strikes from the diving vex. He kept this up for a few more minutes before he got a successful swing in, the vex disappearing in a puff of smoke. He then looked in Iskall’s direction to see how his friend was faring. Not well, apparently.

It happened all too fast.

First, to his right, Doc’s scream rang through the air. Only moments later, he watched as Cub hit Iskall in the eye and, following an electrical shock from the resulting hit, caused the assassin to collapse in a heap on the ground.

Mumbo watched as Iskall laid defenseless and Cub raised his sword, poised to kill his friend.

Mumbo did the only thing he thought he could do to stop him.

He threw his sword straight at Cub.

Mumbo threw the sword with everything he had in him, heaving it over his shoulder. Mumbo’s sword flew through the air, spinning. To Mumbo, it was far too slow. Mumbo’s entire world was going in slow motion.

By some stoke of luck, the sword hit its mark, embedding itself in the back of Cub’s shoulder. Even better, Cub was low on health and, after a moment that lasted far too long, Cub went up in a puff of smoke, leaving behind his items and some experience.

Before Mumbo could celebrate his victory, his luck ran out in the form of a trident flying from outside Sahara. The trident hit him with its handled end right in Mumbo’s temple as it returned to its owner, a seething Grian.

If looks could kill, Grian would be an undertaker. Grian had his trident in one hand and his diamond sword in the other. His eyes were a blistering red, without a hint of a black pupil. His face was plastered with a forced smile, Grian’s jaw taught and teeth clenched forcefully, painfully. The muscles in his neck strained, pulsing with each movement.

“You stupid, insignificant spoon!” Grian said through clenched teeth, punctuating each word with a step closer to Mumbo. Mumbo was quickly realizing how foolish it was of him to throw his only weapon – his only defense – away.

Grian let out a dry, forced laugh, through gritted teeth, now only a couple feet from Mumbo. “I should be thanking you; you know. You’re now defenseless. Doc’s dead. Iskall can’t even think coherently! So, how do you want those diamonds, Mumbo! I’m waiting for the speech already!” Grian, shorter in height and thinner in stature than Mumbo, appeared far taller and far more intimidating than he had ever been before. Grian now in Mumbo’s face, pushed him back, onto the ground. Grian now towered over Mumbo’s cowering form.

Another forced laugh, speaking harshly though his teeth, “I never really cared much for you, Mumbo. You have always been so boring, so full of yourself and your stupid redstone. You can’t build outside of that stupid concrete design to save your life!”

Grian tossed away his sword, just out of Mumbo’s grasp and took his trident in both hands. “And now you can’t save your life, Mumbo! Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! Stu-”

Just as Grian was about to swing his trident down at Mumbo, three trident prongs appeared from his chest. Grian, sputtering and confused, as a one-armed Doc leaned towards the maniacal builder’s ear.

“Stupid, eh Grian? Who’s stupid now? I had a half a heart left, Grian. Didn’t think to double check, just in case? Just in the off chance that I didn’t die? Let this be a lesson to you, stupid?”

With that, Doc twisted his trident and Grian turned to dust and experience particles.

Doc let out a sorrowful laugh, watching Mumbo’s tears start to fall freely. “I’ve wanted to do that since I lost the Civil War,” Doc bluntly stated, at which point he slammed his trident into the floor, wrapping his arm around it as support.

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.”

Chapter Text

Chapter VIII – Run, Run Until It’s Done, Done

The Federation of United Nations had gone on to conquer many solar systems before Mumbo was even a twinkle in his parents’ eyes. The Federation, spawning from Earth, went unopposed in its conquests across the stars, locating valuable resources and strategic outposts for future invasions every step of the way.

The Federation went unopposed for its first half a century of expansion not because of its powerful weaponry or its prowess on the battlefield. No, not at first. Those lacked behind the other spacefaring conglomerates at their time of emergence onto the cosmic stage. The Federation was unrestricted in its march because much of the galaxy near it was uninhabited by sentient life. The part of the galaxy that the Federation inhabited was known to the other races of the galaxy simply as, “The Darkness.”

To many beings, these systems were useless. The systems in The Darkness were far apart, the planets on them did not have materials on their surface for war, and, before the humans of the Federation arrived on the scene, did not have sentient life worth conquering. Why extract material from a planet when your neighbor has already done it? Why mine when you can steal?

To further add fear to the human name, humans had somehow appeared in the blink of an eye on the cosmic time scale of the other races. The races of the galaxy had recorded history dating back millions upon millions of years. The other races of the galaxy had done resource scavenging missions through The Darkness since expansion first began, the last only over a century before by the People of the Galactic Borderlands. When they had visited The Darkness, the Galactics, as they called themselves, determined that the humans would destroy themselves in their pathetic worldwide civil war. Word got out quickly to the other species that these humans, the only beings known to inhabit The Darkness to date, would too perish to the unyielding power of The Darkness.

Out they came onto the grand stage, arrogant and feared. Humans, a species that only a hundred years prior could barely get a vehicle into the atmosphere for any great length of time, stood stronger than they ever should have been able to. It was certainly a surprise and the Galactics formed a shaky alliance as soon as they could. That alliance only lasted five years before it dissolved into chaos and war.

Mumbo, born with the name Michael Joseph, would not claim his current name until after his twenty-third birthday. He was born only five years after the war began and subsequently grew up in it. The Galactics had advanced weaponry, as well as vast knowledge of the galaxy. However, the human forces were entrenched well into their outposts and the Galactics, though advanced in their ships, could not afford going the far distances in The Darkness, and would rather just have a shaky truce. The humans did not want a truce, they itched for war. The war looked like it would never end – a bitter stalemate between an overwhelming offense and a stringent defense. The endless standoff – until it wasn’t. The Federation, on one of their outposts, had discovered a new material – redstone.

The redstone was powerful – magical in its abilities, and in the right hands, destructive in use. Unlike circuits, redstone didn’t overheat. It could push ship reactors to their max, making human spacecraft unopposed as the fastest vessels in the galaxy.

Furthermore, the redstone, when placed in concentrated amounts, could be used as weaponry. The firearms that the humans now possessed were on par with the rest of the galaxy’s but used a resource that never needed to be recharged or replenished. Redstone laser beam firearms, unlike normal blasters, did not rely on an outside source, only the concentrated redstone that recharged on its own, as if by magic. Human science failed to determine what properly caused the redstone to function as it did, but it could still be applied in ways meaningful to the humans.

Once the humans mass produced the weaponry and refitted their vessels, the war was won within a year, the Galactic capital planet razed and occupied for later resource harvesting.

At war’s end, Mumbo was sixteen years of age, graduating top of his class after having skipped two grades. Mumbo completed a doctoral engineering degree at the most prestigious school in the Federation by the time he was twenty-one. Shortly thereafter, Mumbo began working for the Federation as a lead scientist in the Ministry of War, Redstone Advancements Division on the heavily fortified planet of John Paul II, neighboring a redstone extraction planet, aptly named John Paul I. The two planets were the only two planetary bodies circling the red dwarf star. It was an envied position.

The planet, John Paul II, was small – smaller than the moon – with the only population on it being the crew of 3,000 or so scientists, all inhabiting one complex, and a few divisions of Federation forces manning the planet’s defense mechanisms from within the complex.

Mumbo had been constantly criticized by many of his coworkers, always thought of as being too young and too inexperienced to be a lead scientist on the construction of military grade space equipment. The current project: Power Armor Suit 2-06092013.

Mumbo may have been a lead scientist, but it didn’t mean he knew how to lead. Worse yet, those who were supposed to work beneath him did not want to work for a kid and ended up finding other projects to occupy their time. “The Federation had requested I work for Mister So-and-So, Michael,” they would always tell him. The Federation didn’t really care where the common scientists worked, so long as the lead scientists finished the necessary work. So, that’s what Mumbo did. He worked. Alone. And got the work done on a fine pace for nearly two solid years.

The scientists called him stupid for wanting to stick around. He could work on a different project and no one above them would care. “After all, Michael, there are better projects here at the facility than some stupid war suit, made by some stupid kid,” his supervisor, the head of the facility, had told him one day.

“Well, considering I am wrapping up the prototype for the Federation to review soon, I suppose you wouldn’t mind showing me which project you think would be more useful of my time,” Mumbo quipped back, anger rising in his voice.

“Of course, I can, Michael,” Mumbo’s supervisor said glancing down at the open book of Mumbo’s calculations for the suit, and then grabbing them. “What are all of these calculations? It’s an absolute unorganized mess? You can’t show the Federation this stupid mumbo jumbo!”

“Sir? I am still editing them. That is why the project isn-” Mumbo was cut off before he could finish speaking.

“Don’t worry. As your supervisor, I shall review your documents before sending them to the Federation inspector.”

“But sir! Those aren’t yo-”

“I know. But you need my approval for them before the Federation’s representative comes anyway. I may as well try and make heads or tails on your documentation before I have to review that final product of yours. Take the next couple days off, Mr. Joseph.”

Mumbo tried to stop his supervisor, but his supervisor would have none of it, and allowed the doors to shut in Mumbo’s face. ‘Well, I suppose I can take a bit of a break.’ Mumbo proceeded to stick around and tinker more with the suit, running the red suit’s diagnostics so as to ensure it remained in working order.

After the diagnostics were run, Mumbo started towards the barracks. On the way to the barracks, Mumbo had to pass his supervisor’s office. The door was open with the light of a holographic computer screen illuminating the office. Mumbo decided to enter his supervisor’s office and ask for his papers back. Though upon entering, what he saw was quite a gruesome sight.

Mumbo’s supervisor was slouched against the wall with a distinct burn hole on his forehead where a plasma blaster had presumably shot through. Mumbo almost threw up his dinner at the sight.

Something compelled him to look at his supervisor’s computer. Going against his better judgement of running and screaming from the disturbing scene, Mumbo decided to check the computer. ‘Stupid decision! Stupid! You need to leave. Ugh.’ After all, the papers on his supervisor’s desk appeared to be untouched, his suit files laying there, in the clean, orderly fashion his supervisor would have left it. The interface displayed an interactive blueprint display for a massive project.

The title read, ‘Redstone Planetary Destabilizer.’ Mumbo decided to delve into the file’s description, rather than just the blueprints. The more he read, the more his stomach began to turn.

The device was in essence a planet destroyer. It required a massive amount of redstone, which explained why he heard his coworkers keep mentioning more and more redstone shipments arrive on John Paul II from its sister planet.

Mumbo read the file over one more time. It was the middle of the night. No one would be looking for his supervisor until morning. Clearly whoever came here assassinated his supervisor in order to take the files. The assassin more than likely copied it to another drive. Mumbo would not be so simple. It appears that the file was locked to the computer, so as to not let hackers access it. That meant this was the only file. Key word, was.

Whoever took it though, appears to not simply be bringing it to the Federation. That wouldn’t be needed since his supervisor has been working for them nearly his entire life. No, whoever took this had other intentions with the confidential file. Mumbo wanted to study these files more, but he couldn’t here.

No, Mumbo would be taking these files elsewhere. He couldn’t just leave, could he? “Ugh! This is all pants! So, so stupid! But- argh! No, I’m leaving, and I’m taking this,” Mumbo grabbed a drive from his supervisor’s desk, “with me.”

While waiting for the download to complete, Mumbo grabbed his files. ‘I’m not going to be working for this place any longer. It doesn’t help that it looks like I’m the one that killed my supervisor. My DNA is everywhere now. Ugh, you’re so stupid. No, this place is going sky high. These people. Too many of them know about this project. There’s too much redstone in the facility for it to just be a small operation. They’d kill millions. I have to stop this! I’ve been left in the dark, and I’m going to kill the lights on this project.’ The file finished downloading, transferring to his drive.

Mumbo rushed out of the office towards his own workstation. ‘The ship bay won’t exactly be wide open, but I think I know how to clear my way to that. First though, I’m going to need a way to get rid of this whole base. A bomb? No, bigger. The reactor core, that’ll do it. It’ll take to long for it to go off, and with so many scientists, it’s a surefire that they’d be able to stop its meltdown in time.’

At this point, Mumbo had made it back to his workstation and capsuled his suit before pressing the side of the hand-held cube. The suit fit itself to Mumbo’s own work suit. The suit was the same color as his signature red tie with a darker red ‘M’ over his chest. Pulling out another capsule and pressing its side, Mumbo now held a redstone laser beam blaster in his hands, modified to fit his tastes.

‘Think, stupid, think!’ A thought occurred to him in that instance. ‘A bomb on the reactor core. Now there’s an idea! A five-minute time bomb should give me enough time to get to a ship as well!’ Mumbo quickly began tinkering with the handful of materials he had in his workstation, making a redstone powered time bomb within minutes.

Mumbo, as fast as he possibly could, pulled out a capsule and began filling it with the handfuls of materials he had in his workstation. Mumbo also grabbed the foods and drinks capsule before heading out. Mumbo’s suit was decked to the nines in the most advanced military technology money could buy, including some of his own added features, like the cloaking system that makes the user invisible. Of course, Mumbo activated the cloaking system.

Within five minutes, Mumbo was easily at the reactor room, three scientists monitoring the reactor. ‘Am I really going to go through with this? I would be a mass murderer, but if I don’t do it, won’t I just be allowing the Federation to murder millions? The classic Trolley Problem, I suppose. I’m already in too deep, anyway. Yeah, I think I have no choice.’

Mumbo, in the corner of the room, raised his blaster and waited for the scientists to not be watching each other. When two were distracted, he took out the third, and within moments, killed the other two. Mumbo walked over to the scientist closest to the door, took out his badge and brought it to the access door to the reactor, swiping it and entering.

Mumbo walked over to the main reactor’s weakest point, and placed the bomb near it, starting the timer. Mumbo bolted out of the room in the direction of the ship hanger. ‘When that bomb explodes, the reactor will blow instantaneously with it. Meltdown will be instantaneous.’

Mumbo ran past dozens of scientists, their fates already predestined. Upon entering the hanger, Mumbo noticed eight soldiers. There were about a dozen military grade star cruisers that Mumbo could steal. The soldiers posed a minor problem. Within moments, Mumbo disposed of them, rushing to the ship at the closest exit. The space cruiser was a top-of-the-line cruiser, already outfitted with a redstone powered engine.

Within a minute, Mumbo had the ship powered up. He could see soldiers entering the hanger, using the cameras on the ship, but they were too late. Mumbo was able to get the ship out of the facility. He began flying upwards and away from the base, and, watching from his cameras, saw as the base was erased from existence in a blaze of glory.

Mumbo flew back towards the base. Not a soul survived. Michael Joseph, by belief of the Federation, was dead. He supposed he’d need a new name. “My supervisor did always say that everything I made was a bunch of stupid mumbo jumbo. Heh. I suppose that wouldn’t be too bad of a name; I’d get to keep my initials. Michael Joseph is dead. I shall now be known as Mumbo Jumbo.”

After a minute or so of Mumbo’s sobbing, Doc, still leaning on his trident, looked over to Iskall’s prone body and realized the man was out cold. Doc’s mechanical arm was severed, which left only Mumbo to carry their unconscious friend out to safety.

“Mumbo,” Doc tried to say calmly, voice laden with exhaustion. He looked at the blubbering man. “We need to grab Iskall and get out of here. We need to go somewhere safe. We,” Doc stopped, composing himself. The pain he felt from his missing arm was now draining him. The lack of sleep was only making matters worse. “Chances are that they will be back if we don’t get a move on. If we want to survive, we will need all the help we can get. We can come up with a better plan once we are safe, but first, we need to get out of here.”

Mumbo wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his suit jacket and stood up. “You’re right, Doc. We should get going. I’m just. Never mind.” Mumbo walked over to the nether portal and placed a block down inside of it, deactivating it. “That should buy us a few seconds more. I think it would be best if we took the Dragon Bros Bunker. We can use the secret tunnel inside to get to my personal Demise bunker and hide out there. That should hopefully put them off our trail, at least for a short while.”

Mumbo flew up to the ledge overhanging the Sahara lobby and looked back towards Doc. “I am going to take the shulkers from the Sahara Now Membership dispenser. Can you lift Iskall up and start going towards the diamond enclosure? That’s the entrance to the Dragon Bros Bunker.” With a grunt from Doc that he interpreted as approval Mumbo made his way over to the Sahara Now shulker dispenser.

To be honest, Mumbo hadn’t been restocking the dispenser much since Sahara Now had opened. He restocked the main storage every now and again, but he recently had been focused on improving his industrial district and had not had the time to do much with Sahara. He felt quite embarrassed. ‘Another reason to avoid the meetings!’ he’d always say to himself.

He appreciated not having restocked it now, though. He felt like a kid on Christmas! Each shulker was like a present that they were gifted. Mumbo used the term gifted, of course, because he certainly wasn’t going to pay for them. Iskall would understand. Grian. Well, Grian was stupid for leaving them here.

There were six shulkers in total in the system. Three of the shulkers had golden carrots, one was a terraforming shulker, another was a shulker filled with concrete, and the last was a red shulker labeled ‘Don’t Even Think About It.’ Inside the red shulker was an array of hazardous materials; twelve stacks of TNT, two TNT minecarts, three lava buckets, a flint and steel, six stacks of fire charges, and three stacks of ender crystals. ‘Three stacks of end crystals! Who even needs that many! And all that TNT! If one of the Greyskins would have gotten this, we would all have been toast!’

Mumbo ran to the ledge and jumped off, letting his elytra glide him down to Doc and the unconscious Iskall, who were both now waiting by the diamond showcase. Running to the lever, Mumbo pulled it and opened the hatch. “Be careful going in! It could still be trapped.”

Doc hesitated, still holding the deadweight of Iskall on his good arm, severed arm pressed between his hand and Iskall’s shoulder. “What do you mean ‘trapped,’ Mumbo?” Doc’s eyes narrowed at the man. Mumbo seemed off to Doc. Yeah, everything felt off, but Mumbo? Mumbo clearly hadn’t died. No, the trapped thing wasn’t what concerned – it was his deposition. He just rebounded from his best friend telling him off as if it was nothing. Doc figured he’d ask about it once they were safely in the bunker.

“Well, um, Doc. The dead team. Some of them, or at least one of them, had broken into our base here and trapped the entrance. It was back when Grian and False were still alive and I don’t think any of us really came down here after their ‘funeral’ that was held for them.” Mumbo air quoted funeral, not really sure how to explain the odd ceremony they held for their Demised friends much further to Doc. “How about we discuss the matter once we are at the very least no longer out in the open?”

Mumbo lifted himself under Iskall’s other shoulder, draping Iskall’s arm over his neck, taking Iskall’s unconscious body from the cyborg. He proceeded down the steps into the bunker below. Doc followed behind him, pulling the lever on the inside to close the entrance back up.

As they proceeded through the cramped hallway, Mumbo made sure that there were no visible traps, double checking for tripwires. However, none presented themselves, and the carpet that had once lined the floors had long been abandoned. The trio approached where the bubble elevator entrance lay to proceed to the inner chamber of the Dragon Bros Bunker.

Mumbo stopped and laid Iskall down, leaning against the wall. He pulled out his pickaxe. “I think it would be wise of us to avoid trying to get Iskall down the elevator and instead just mine through. Would you mind just picking up the blocks and rebuilding it once we have Iskall down to the next layer?”

Doc nodded his head with a grunt as Mumbo began mining a staircase downwards. Doc followed behind, keeping an eye on Iskall as he picked up the debris left by Mumbo. A minute later and the staircase was complete. Doc and Mumbo, on each side of Iskall, carried Iskall around their shoulders down the staircase.

They sat the one-eyed man down and began filling in the staircase so as to cover their tracks. The two conscious men picked up Iskall and carried him into the bunker proper.

“If I remember correctly, Grian should have just blocked the tunnel to my bunker through his terraforming,” Mumbo said, pointing with his free hand towards the corner he remembered the tunnel entering. “If you can support Iskall, I’ll tear into this stone and we can get on our way.” Without waiting for Doc’s approval, Mumbo removed himself from Iskall’s weight. Doc shifted to try and support the man but ended up not so gracefully laying Iskall down at his feet.

Mumbo paid no mind to his other compatriots as he tore into the wall of stone, minutes later finding the tunnel that led to his bunker. He quickly put the building materials back where he best remembered them belonging, Doc pointing out any major differences he thought he noticed from only moments before.

Mumbo returned to Doc and Iskall, bent down and, putting his shoulder under Iskall’s arm, lifted him up. “I think I can get Iskall down the tunnel by myself. The tunnel is pretty narrow. Just fill in the hole on our way out with these.” Mumbo tossed Doc the leftover building materials that he had torn away. Once Mumbo and Iskall had made it through, Doc filled in the hole, running to catch up to Mumbo.

The trip to Mumbo’s bunker was a long one, made longer by an unconscious Iskall weighing down travel. The tunnel was narrow, and Mumbo, carrying Iskall, had to shuffle most of the way to uphold his business partner.

Doc was getting impatient. He was carrying his severed mechanical arm, trying to get its technology to reactivate. ‘Etho really made a masterpiece here. I think it just needs some redstone to properly reboot it. Then, its nanogears should be able to reconnect to the severed pieces. I’ll just need some iron to fix the disconnected metal plating. It was a pretty clean cut so the cybernetics shouldn’t be too toast.’ After removing some of the plating, Doc notices the cybernetics underneath overheated and broke during his arm’s severance. ‘The redstone to reboot it won’t be enough. I’ll probably need to do some wiring fixes on some of the internals. Yeah, these wires are fried. This is so stupid.’ Doc let out a frustrated sigh before repeating his last phrase out loud, punching the wall to add emphasis. “This is so stupid.”

Mumbo stopped in his tracks, tilting his head down. He whispered something that Doc couldn’t quite hear. “What was that, Mumbo?” Doc sounded more annoyed than concerned, which was not how he wanted to come across, but the lack of sleep was affecting him more and more, now that the adrenaline from the fight had worn off.

“I said, ‘I’m not stupid,’ Doc!” Mumbo yelled, dropping Iskall and turning towards Doc, swinging his arm only inches from Doc’s head. A look of pure despair was present on his face. Mumbo appeared to have been crying for some time as there were wet spots on his suit where tears would have fallen as they dripped down his face. Tears, still falling from his eyes stained his face. Mumbo’s eyes widened momentarily before he clenched them shut.

“I’m – I’m not stupid.” Mumbo repeated, quieter, dropping his face to look at the floor, shoulders heaving with audible sobs.

Doc was at a loss for words. Mumbo must have been crying for some time, as evidenced by his mess of a face. He had not been paying much attention to anything else besides his severed arm since they entered the tunnel, so it should be no surprise to Doc that he missed Mumbo’s breakdown.

However, what Mumbo said struck a chord with him. ‘Mumbo is not stupid. No shit! Mumbo is one of the smartest people I know!’ Mumbo was only one of two people he trusted to help work on his cybernetics – the other being the creator of them himself – Etho. ‘Who got it in his head that he was – oh, that’s right. Grian did. But Mumbo understands that Grian isn’t him anymore, right?’ Doc supposed that if he had heard his best friend say something along the same lines, he’d be rightfully distraught as well.

‘Maybe if you actually cared enough about people still, you’d have friends to worry you like Mumbo.’ Those were thoughts Doc didn’t need right now. The nHo collapsed in on itself when Doc was the only one to survive Season 5. He considered those three like family. Sure, Bdubs didn’t remember any of it, and that hurt, but it wasn’t his fault. This Grian had certainly intended every hurtful word he said.

So had Rendog when he decided to oppose Doc’s efforts with Area 77 by becoming a hippie. Then again, that was all in good fun. This madness, on the other hand, was no longer fun. Even with Doc’s stoic nature, Ren knew that the conflict between the hippies and Area 77 was just Doc being Doc. It was all in good fun, as much Doc could appear at least, dealing with time machines, aliens, and beings trying to force themselves onto the server. Maybe he had been on to something after all before the practical disbandment of Area 77.

Nevertheless, Doc was never one to deal with emotions. Extreme emotions always ended poorly for the cyborg. They always seemed to end in rage.

So, Doc had no idea how to deal with the sobbing man standing in front of him. He supposed saying something could probably help. “No, you’re not, Mumbo.” ‘Yeah, nailed it,’ Doc’s thoughts sarcastically commented.

It did get Mumbo to at least look up and stop his sobbing, although tears still flowed from his eyes. “Mumbo, Grian doesn’t think you’re stupid either. That’s not Grian. I know it looks and sounds like him, but it’s not him. None of those people are our friends.” After setting down his severed arm, Doc grabbed Mumbo’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not stupid, Mumbo. If you ever need someone to listen to you, I guess I may be able to lend an ear.” Doc gave a smirk, getting a small, sad laugh out of the mustached man. It may have been a band-aid for a bullet wound, but at least it was something. He could help more when things slowed down a bit and they were safe.

Mumbo straightened up and wiped his face with his sleeve. “Thanks, Doc. I. I needed to hear that. I guess I’m just really tired, and what ‘Grian’ said opened up some old wounds that I thought had long healed. I guess I just, I don’t know.”

“You were upset, and that’s okay. I doubt I could’ve done much better. Just don’t dwell on it. You’re smart. And your health matters to me, and every one of the Hermits. Don’t hesitate if you need anything, okay?”

Mumbo gave a smile and a nod, now feeling better than he had before. He looked down at Iskall, unceremoniously dumped during Mumbo’s outburst. “Umm…” Mumbo gave a light chuckle. “I suppose I should probably pick him back up.” Doc joined in on the laughing. It felt good to hear Mumbo’s laugh, even better knowing that it sounded genuine.

Mumbo picked up Iskall again and Doc grabbed his severed mechanical arm. The trio continued down the hallway in relative silence once more, this time Doc remaining in the present and not drifting off to his own thoughts.

Eventually, the three Hermits made it to Mumbo’s bunker, entering through the panic room.

“These levers here,” Mumbo said, waving his free hand at the levers on the wall as they passed, “are used to set off the traps within my bunker. One’s for lava on the outside and the tower, another is for lava in the halls, and the last one is for the arrow dispensers in the halls. Hopefully, we won’t need to use them.”

Exiting the lever room, the trio entered the hallway. “These rooms are a bedroom, which we can set up another bed in for three people, a storage room that is stocked with food, potions, and redstone, and a recording room.” Mumbo let a laugh. “I had intended staying cooped up in my bunker for the whole season, but that didn’t turn out as I planned. I was going to record each day, but after my third day alone in the bunker, I kinda left and haven’t returned since.” Mumbo’s free hand was rubbing his neck.

“I think that’ll make it the perfect base avoiding the dead team,” Doc said, a smirk on his face and a glint in his eye. “Let’s get Iskall down on one of those beds to recover. I want to fix his eye, but first I need to get my arm repaired, and I can’t do it without your help.”

Mumbo looked at Doc with a sincere smile gracing his face. “Of course, Doc. Let’s get moving!” Mumbo may have been tired, but he was reenergized with this new purpose. He supposed sleep could wait a bit longer.

Doc had been mindful of grabbing Iskall’s eye when he picked up the man back at Sahara and double-checked that it was still in his chest pocket of his lab coat. Thankfully, it was there.

First, Doc went to the recording room and put his mechanical arm on the desk inside and then helped Mumbo lay Iskall in the bed to rest. Doc also set Iskall’s mechanical eye down on the table near his bed, so as to not lose it fixing his own robotics.

“As much as I’d love to help Iskall here, man, I am going to need both arms for that eye. It is a very finicky bit of engineering that I’d rather not do incorrectly, in the case that I do more harm than good to our friend.”

“Certainly. I can provide my services for reattaching your arm,” Mumbo said, smirking at Doc’s attempt at humor. “Let’s get to it, shall we?”

Mumbo followed Doc to his recording room and began moving stuff around to make a proper workbench. Against the other wall, they made a type of operating table for Doc to lay on.

“I’m going to go get my tools. I think they are in my ender chest.” Mumbo left the room and came back a couple of minutes later with a pair of mechanical magnifying goggles on his head and a decent sized box in his arms, lined with various tools and gizmos inside, presumably containing the tools necessary for fixing Doc’s mechanical arm.

Doc sat next to Mumbo and set the mechanical arm down on the workbench. He directed Mumbo to the various parts that he thought may need fixed. Mumbo also noticed small bits of nano-redstone wiring that needed replacing. Mumbo retrieved a device from his box and plugged certain ports of the severed arm into the device. “The device,” Mumbo explained to Doc, “was to fix the calibration issues that would arise with the strength and sensitivity of the mechanical arm upon reattachment.” There were also a few updates and modifications Mumbo made to the cybernetic arm, including a small saw and knife feature in the pointer finger. All in all, the process only took them two hours.

The biggest challenge, however, was mending the severance point at the connector joint of the arm. The sword that Grian had been using must have had a fire aspect enchantment, as many of the metal nanogears on each side of the arm were melted. The mechanical arm’s side was not an issue since there were no nerve connectors attached to Doc from the severed arm. However, the nanogears on Doc’s side of the severance still had the nervous system wiring intact.

Although Mumbo could avoid inflicting pain through Doc’s adapted nervous system, it would require shutting down the cybernetics. However, there are only two ways through turning them back on as a failsafe to avoid overloading the system – respawn or a reboot. Respawn was out of the question and a reboot without admin abilities to override the system upload could take over a week. Although Doc said Mumbo could work on the severed area without shutting down Doc’s system, the pain could become quite immense. Unfortunately, it was the only realistic option they had though.

However bad physical pain can be, it can always be offset with a little alcohol and a rag to bite down on.

“I’m going to grab something real quick. I’ll be right back.” That led Mumbo to go into the storage room and locating the crate of liquor he had brought. He never really drank the stuff but had put it there mainly for aesthetic, because ‘what apocalypse survival bunker didn’t have alcohol somewhere?’ He had thought at the time. Mumbo grabbed two bottles from the crate and a piece of wool on his way out of the storage room.

Walking into the recording room, Doc was already laying on the operating table. Mumbo handed him the now opened bottle of Jevin Daniel’s, Doc eyeing him concerned. “Take a swig before we start and whenever you need to when I’m not concentrating. There’s a second one on the ground here once you finish that one. Stick this in your mouth when you’re not drinking and we can get started,” Mumbo instructed, also passing Doc the wool.

Knowing Doc, he would probably drink one bottle before they even began.

Mumbo went about his businesses for the next twenty minutes laying out the tools he needed to repair the damage as well as the new replacement nano-connectors. Mumbo put on his magnifying goggles again and sat down prepared to work. Sure enough, Doc drank the entire first bottle of Jevin Daniel’s, so Mumbo opened the second one and set it by Doc’s good arm. Doc already had the wool in his mouth and was laying down, laughing at absolutely nothing, and trying to say something through the wool.

Mumbo grabbed the wool out of Doc’s mouth, allowing Doc to properly speak. “I’m your uncle now. Heh. Uncle Doc. Look into my eyes Mumb, Mum. You’re not my mum. You’re – you’re Mumbo! Mumbo Jum-” Doc was cut off by Mumbo shoving the wool back in Doc’s mouth.

“No, I’m not your mum, Doc. This is gonna hurt, alright mate? Just nod your head if you understand you need to stay still.” Doc nodded his head, one eye squinting at Mumbo as Mumbo began his working his magic.

Three hours, two small bottles of Jevin Daniel’s, and one passed out Doc later, and Doc’s severed arm was severed no more.

Now, it was time for Mumbo to go to sleep too, in the other room with Iskall. With no external lights lit, and the internal ones having been on the same since its construction, Mumbo knew they didn’t have to worry about intruders on the first night. The dead Hermits wouldn’t even think of looking in Mumbo’s bunker. With that thought, Mumbo laid down in a bed in the same room that Iskall was sleeping in and promptly passed out from exhaustion, dreaming of a world long gone.

Chapter Text

Chapter IX – I’m Feeling So Alone

He had been chasing the tall, black being that stole his helmet for the last who knows how long! That thing just kept running away! Always with a little ‘vwoop’ sound, flickering out from in front of him, teleporting to who knows where. The being was the only sign of life in this endless expanse of night and weird, pale, blocky yellow stone. Don’t get him started on the cubes! Endless squares! Hell! He thought he might be a cube too and not even realize it! Worse, what he and this tall being were standing on was just one of many islands in this endless, black expanse made out of, yep, cubes. His superhuman strength sure came in handy whenever he needed to jump over that endless expanse of nothingness.

‘Void.’ The word came to his mind from a voice that was far too feminine to be his own. He chose to ignore its difference. He became accustomed to the random voices in his head ever since he first fell through the nothingness that eventually dropped him here. However, this voice was different than the others that tended to occupy his head. It was calm yet was laced heavily with authority. The others only ever berated him, choosing to harass him; they never helped like this voice did.

‘Yes, void. That’s what that is,’ his own voice now said in his head. ‘Avoiding the void is important. It does not look like a pleasant experience, probably just like what I was falling through before for all those years.’

Another ‘vwoop’ brought his attention back to the present. There it was again, that stupid, tall being that took his helmet.

‘Enderman,’ that feminine voice said in his head again. Yes, he enjoyed this voice more than the others, but it sounded tired as if it was already bored of him. He supposed he deserved it. The other voices were sickeningly sweet when they first entered his head as well.

‘An enderman? What an odd name for a species.’ He stopped momentarily as the being disappeared again.

He saw in the distance, on the next weird yellow island over, something flickering into existence, only to disappear again. It appeared moments later in a new spot, only a bit higher on the island.

‘Endstone,’ the feminine voice filled his mind once more, this time so quietly he almost thought it to be but the wind. It sounded so tired. Perhaps it wasn’t displeased with him, just exhausted. He supposed he too would be exhausted if he tried communicating with someone through their mind. He could just try and strike up some conversation.

 “Who are you?” He asked, half expecting it to just be one of the other voices. He wanted to be patient with this new, kind voice, but his patience was thin from having to deal with all of the other voices for the last decade. What made this one any better?

When no one responded, he asked again, volume lowering to a seething hiss, “Who are you?” Still no answer. He could almost hear the old voices coming back, mocking his question, begging for him to go berserk.

He couldn’t hold the voices at bay for long, they began in earnest in his head. The feminine, calming voice from before did not appear once, or if it did, it was far too quiet when compared to the cacophony of mocking voices he now heard. His vision was starting to darken at the edges, filling with black spots; another blackout for sure. It happened so frequently when he had been falling. He knelt down, trying to ground himself.

This time he bellowed his question, staring up into the night. “Who are you!?” He was slowly losing control; he could feel it. He let the emotions win and the voices would take over again, just like every other time during his decade long falling stint. This time, they would certainly want things destroyed now that he was on solid footing again.

However, silence quickly returned to his mind, as he felt his rage leave him and the black spots that had slowly been filling up his vision recede. Instead, the only actual response he received was the enderman teleporting back onto the island he stood on once more, less than fifty blocks of this endstone away. It still had his helmet on its head, but he could feel it staring at him through the screen.

His face fell. Of course. It was probably this enderman. He met demons with telekinetic abilities. Certainly, this being had to have them as well. “Are you the being who keeps speaking inside my head? You, enderman?” he asked, voice dripping with frustration.

The enderman just tilted its head to the side.

“Well? Are you, then?” he asked, standing up and crossing his arms over his chest. He was quickly losing patience. The voices that he was sure would arrive from his returning anger never made their appearance, though, which surprised him as his own anger began to boil.

The enderman, moments after he had finished his question, flickered out of existence, reappearing directly in front of him. Startled, he fell back on the ground. Perhaps it wasn’t the feminine voice from before.

It kept making noises, lower in frequency than the feminine voice was, but not as low as his own voice was. It seemed to understand him, however. Or, at the very least, it understood his desire to approach the being.

He wanted his helmet; he was sure the creature understood that. He just needed his helmet back and he could be on his way. It had everything he needed! It had a clock, access to his weapons, a translator, a – ‘Wait! A translator! If I can just get it, I can communicate with that being! Surely had it been that voice, it would have answered by now. Now how do I-’

Before he could finish his thought, an arm jutted in front of his face belonging to none other than the enderman. It was long and the muscles well defined; thin, like the rest of it, but clearly stronger than any normal human would be. He grabbed the extended hand and was pulled up to his feet with staggering force, before being teleported away, now on the island across the void.

The enderman stared at him, before removing the helmet from its head.

Now, without the helmet, he was able to see that the enderman had only one purple eye and a scar where the other eye presumably had been before.

The enderman held out the helmet above his head lowering it carefully and gently back on his head. Once in place, the enderman teleported the two of them again, now on a different island. It looked different, but how different can this expanse really be? Not much considering all he ever saw was endstone and void.

‘Wait! The translator! Perhaps if I just randomize the sensors? I just need it to speak.’

“Enderman, this helmet of mine can translate our languages so that we may communicate. I just need you to speak a handful of words in your tongue.”

The Enderman stared at him for a moment, tilting his head to the side, confused. Then, its eyes went wide as if in realization.

What happened next could only be described as the most terrifying sound he had ever heard, and he had spent time in literal hell. The enderman’s jaw dropped wide, its eye-widening, before letting out an ear-piercing shriek. It picked him up and began teleporting him at random locations, continuing its wretched screaming.

“Language detected,” his helmet spoke, “Initiating Galactic translation.”

When his helmet spoke, the enderman stopped its screeching and threw him down, teleporting away to only a few blocks in front of him. He attempted to initiate the commands to pull out his weapons, but they all came back with the same error message: ‘Praetor Suit Component not found.’ He supposed he would have to just fist fight it out now that the enderman started its shrieking again.

The enderman teleported again, before teleporting back in roughly the same time. He was now on his feet and, as he went to lunge at the enderman, arm raising for a blow to the being, his helmet began translating the dialogue into his tongue, stopping him midstride. “We have to get out of here! We don’t have much time, human!” a voice, deeper than he imagined it to be, came through his helmet’s internal speakers. It was deeper than the random sounds the being had made earlier but not by much, just enough to clearly be masculine in nature.

The enderman grabbed him by the shoulders, before teleporting to another island. “Excuse me? What do you mean, we don’t have much time?”

The enderman gave him a look of bewilderment before its eye widened and a weird smile graced its lips. “You understand me! Perfect! We can get out of here before he catches us. I need your name. Now!” The enderman pulled an orange cube with blinking lights adorning its facets out from nowhere.

“I – I – Wait! Who will catch us! What do you-” he tried to ask, before the enderman teleported them away again, presumably to another part of the island they were on.

“We don’t have much time,” the enderman said grabbing his shoulder, teleporting them once more. “What is your name, son? I need to know what I can call you, so we can get out of here! I can teleport much further if I know who I’m teleporting!”

The sound of static began to fill his ears, flashes of bright green electric sparks dotting the pale endstone. Something in his gut told him that he wouldn’t be able to fistfight whatever the enderman was supposedly running from.

‘RUN!’ the feminine voice returned again, loud, terrified, and heartbreakingly sad.

“Come back here enderman! You know you’re not allowed here. You have something that I want!” A new voice, loud, powerful, taunting bellowed across the landscape, as if it was coming from every direction.

“Come on! It’s now or never!” The enderman begged.

“Doom. You can call me Doom,” at which point the enderman pressed a couple of buttons on the orange cube and Doom teleported with it one final time.

Moments later a blur of green electric energy erupted in the area, with a blue axe embedded where they once stood.

“No! I missed! How did I miss! No! Aghhhhh!” The being screamed before engulfing the entire area in the green electricity before disappearing, a giant hole in the center of the massive island where the being once stood, now floated in the middle of it all.

The electricity that once flooded the area now receded. The being hovered for a moment, searching outwards for the enderman, unable to locate it. The figure chuckled; axe resting on his shoulder. “You have someone I need to destroy, little enderman and if you stand in my way, I’ll be sure to wipe you off this plane of existence.”

“I am Doctor Samuel Hayden, and I am the head of this facility.” Dr. Samuel Hayden did not like his question that much, that much Joe was certain. The robot narrowed his eyes, vivid blue staring deep into his own. “Tell me, Joe, what is our purpose here?”

Joe stood dumbfounded, unsure of what the Doctor was trying to get at. A look from the Doctor showed that Joe might as well at least try to lie his way through his answer. He really didn’t know the answer, but something inside him made him feel like he had at least his answer. So, he started to spin that deep-seated feeling and attempt his best to sell it to the Doctor. “A better question, sir, may be what our purpose is in this world? Is our only purpose to simply stay alive, or is it better served to leave an everlasting mark, a tribute to the desire of man to remain remembered – not forgotten to the sands of time, but rather memorialized in the annuls of history?”

Joe continued on, weaving his tale. “Is it not our mission to uphold man’s greatest truths and leave those who come after us wondering in mystified awe at our conquests and accomplishments? Should we not unite as a people, strong in our wills, holding ever true to our hearts, discerning good from evil, and choosing the better path of the two?”

Joe bellowed out louder, “Nay! Nay I say! It is but a foley, a tragedy, set on stage before we even take our first breaths, all of our lives – our entire existence – predetermined, every choice all the way to our last. We must blaze the trails that lay before us, yes, but our purpose here is to enjoy every second along the way with those we have come to love. Our mission is simple in definition, but arduous in nature, and yet, we must progress onward, facing the trials and tribulations that befall us alongside each other as friends, not enemies, so that one day our people may look back on us as momentous cornerstones for which society continued to press forward and see the good we have done. Our purpose is to live our lives, loving each other, to our fullest ability, pressing forward as one. That is our purpose, Doctor. That is what we must accomplish.”

The Doctor’s face had fallen into confusion shortly into Joe’s monologue. He paused, before quickly approaching Joe, standing mere inches from his face. The Doctor grabbed the bottom of Joe’s chin and proceeded to look into the very depths of Joe’s soul.

Whatever Joe had said, it clearly was wrong, disgust present on the Doctor’s face.

“That was a wonderful speech, Hermit, but not the correct answer. I am but an Agent for my master and I will accomplish the goals I have had laid out before me, by any means necessary. I do not need friends; I need pawns, and the people here shall fill that void. You are but an inconsequential piece to that goal. In short, I don’t need you,” the Doctor said, his eyes darkening ever so slowly from its vibrant, glowing blue to a pitch, light-absorbing black. “I will use whatever I need to escape this realm and return to destroy those who dared stand in my way. You all are just trivial to my pursuits, and anyone who opposes me shall be eliminated.”

Gone was the professional Doctor, businesslike and poised in nature, replaced instead with this terrifying maniac. It was as if the Doctor’s eyes went from illuminating the room in their blue glow to absorbing every bit of light. It was as if Joe was looking into the void, whatever that meant. It meant something to him, he was sure of it. Joe couldn’t look away. The Doctor’s eyes were mesmerizing.

Now, Joe quite preferred his old world, even with the zombies, to this demonic entity in front of him. “I – I – I don’t understand,” Joe sputtered out, as the Doctor grabbed him by the scuff of his shirt.

“Of course, you don’t, you defect,” he said throwing Joe against the wall with so much force that a crack now split the stone surface.

“No! Don’t hurt him!” Xisuma yelled, standing now. He was trying to reach Joe but was unable to get far due to the chains attached to his arms.

Joe was having trouble seeing now. His head was spinning, and his ears were ringing. He had a splitting headache and reached for his head to try and soothe the pain. ‘No blood. Cool. Great. Perhaps I’ve stumbled myself into a pickle.’

The Doctor turned his attention away from the hurt Hermit at his feet, looking at Xisuma before walking towards him. “I will do whatever it takes to get my way. I want your brother, Xisuma. He is of great importance to me,” the Doctor said, pulling out an orange cube with flashing buttons covering its surfaces.

“No,” Xisuma said as his face filled with horror. “How did you get a command block in this world?” Xisuma whispered, eyes never leaving the all-powerful cube. Confusion spread across his face. “Where did you come from to get that? Why would you-” Xisuma stopped for a moment, thinking.

“My brother? No, no. You would have done that already. Why wouldn’t you just do it yourself then?” A moment of realization flittered across Xisuma’s face. “You needed his name, didn’t you?” Xisuma frowned, worry plaguing his face. “That’s why you kept asking me about my brother! You were searching for me to say his name. You never needed me to perform the lines of code! You had the means the entire time!”

“An observant soldier you are, Xisuma. I’ll give you an ultimatum.” As the Doctor spoke, his eyes slowly changed back to their electric blue color, his features softening. “You have somebody I need, Xisuma, and I clearly have someone you’d rather see stay alive. I know Joe’s name here, so I can do with him whatever I want, but I don’t need him. I need your brother. My master, well, he has plans for him. This Joe character is useless to my master. It was a shame I found you first, really. Had I found your brother first, none of your friends would have ever been stuck in this situation. But the plan required it, I suppose.” The Doctor let out a low chuckle, thick as molasses on a cold winter morn. “It seems you have caught me monologuing, my boy. What will it be, Xisuma, your brother’s name, or your friend here?” The Doctor’s fingers clicked against the command block. “It’s just a name, Xisuma. But don’t worry, I have all the time in the world. Just let me know when you’ve made your decision. And although I have all the time in the world, do make it quick. It’d be a shame if I was too impatient and just got rid of your friend without giving you a chance,” the Doctor said, lips curling up into a smirk, before leaving the prison room.

Xisuma stood mouth agape, hands limply reaching out in front of him, trying to grasp reality. ‘This Doctor needed his brother? But for what? To bring destruction to the server? No, that goal was almost accomplished already. What could it be then?’

Joe laid on the stone floor. His head may have been ringing, but he heard every word the Doctor spoke. Evil X must be pretty important. Joe knows the feeling of an ultimatum. He had to make lots of them back at his old world. ‘Old world. Heh. And then, then.’ Joe stopped a moment in his train of thought. ‘Wait. Evil X? I remember him! And old world? No! Getting away from that was the best moment of my life! Generik found me! He gave me an ultimatum too. It was only a few days after I was alone, the last of my friends taken by the horde. He said I could join him on the other side. I definitely thought he meant death, but then that bizarre portal opened up in the ground. I had to choose between my world and a new one. I – I remember it all! I remember Evil X! He always said he’d destroy the server, but he never would actually go through with it, right? No! This monster wants to use Evil X like the other Hermits! I can’t let Xisuma do this. I just need to get up.’ Joe pushed his arm from his head so that it was now beneath him, slowly pushing his body to a sitting position. His head hurt, but the pain was fading just as fast as the cloudiness in his mind was fading.

Joe looked up at Xisuma, holding a hand against his head and another on the ground to stabilize himself. “Xisuma. I remember, I remember everything.” Xisuma looked overjoyed, and it made Joe’s heart hurt to think about it all.

“I remember trapping Genny’s builds. I remember the first time you took over as admin – you were so nervous, but you did so good, first bringing in Mumbo and then so many other new friends along the way! I remember it all, from the friends come and gone, to the fights we had, and to all the fun across the years.” Xisuma smiled, tears starting to well up in his eyes as Joe went on.

“I remember your brother and how you two were so different and yet so alike. I remember how he wanted your attention. He wanted what we Hermits had – love. I remember the days after you banned him, and you couldn’t stop crying because of it. I know how much you wanted to bring him back, but you knew you were doing what was best for everyone. You knew it was for his own good, and if I had to bet, he probably knew that too. I remember how many people came to you, threatening they would leave if your brother wasn’t stopped and how much pain your decision cost you.” Xisuma remembered those days too, with a rueful smile, tears falling freely down his face. Those days made him feel so alone. He had been forever grateful for Joe, acting as his rock to ground him during that difficult time.

“I remember how I tried to convince them that we Hermits always stick together that we live our lives, loving each other, to our fullest ability, pressing forward as one, even if one of our own, like your brother, goes astray. I remember how much it hurt when so many of our friends wouldn’t even talk to me for weeks when I approached them about your brother and said that to them. I remember when you came to my little hovel late one night, sobbing about how you didn’t think you could stay around much longer because you thought everyone was going to leave you. I remember how I told you I wouldn’t leave you no matter what you chose to do.” Joe was smiling now, tears streaming down his face. “I know I said I wouldn’t leave, but Xisuma, I think this has to be goodbye. You. You have to let me go now.”

Xisuma’s face fell, horrified at what Joe was suggesting, “Joe, I can’t let him do that to you! He’ll kill you! He knows the code sequence to change your file so you can’t respawn! Joe, my friend.” Joe cut him off.

“Yes, Xisuma, I am your friend and you are mine, and, because I love you, I am telling you what you need to hear. You cannot let your brother on the server – not for my sake. I don’t know what this man wants with your brother, but whatever it is, it isn’t for a friendly chat. We all know your brother isn’t evil, Xisuma, he just likes to be a bit chaotic to get some attention when he visits you. This man though? This Doctor Samuel Hayden? He is evil, Xisuma. What he wants with your brother, I don’t know, but what I do know is that it isn’t good.” Joe’s tears kept falling down his face, but he never faltered in his smile.

“Joe, I can’t do that. I can’t let him kill you.” Xisuma was shaking, trying to keep himself together. His friend wanting to sacrifice his life for nothing. It made no sense to him.

Joe’s smile faltered before turning into a frown. “Then take off your helmet, look me in the eye, and tell me my life is worth more than everyone else’s on this server!” Joe waited a moment, giving Xisuma the time he needed, but Xisuma was frozen in place, with the exception of his shaking form. “See! You can’t, Xisuma! I meant everything I said when I answered Hayden’s question of our purpose. We must progress forward, Xisuma, so that others may look back on us and see the good we have done, and I will do it alongside my friends, even if it means dying for that just cause!” Joe’s face remained steadfast, staring down Xisuma, before he broke eye contact to blink away his tears. “I love them, Xisuma. I love you. Y’all became my family. And I – because I love all of you. Because I love all of you, I want what’s best for all of you. And if that means dying, for real this time? Then so be it.”

Xisuma was now sobbing, having fallen down to his knees. Joe’s fate was held in his hands and his hands alone.

“Xisuma, you remember how I got here? How Genny saved me from the horde. He should’ve never had the chance. I didn’t get to die alongside my friends in my home dimension, Xisuma. I was a coward. I was a coward, Xisuma, and I won’t make the same mistake here. I know if you have enough time, you’ll be able to come up with a way to win this, even if I’m not here.” Joe cracked a smile, tears falling down his face, before he laid down on the floor, his body too exhausted to stay in his half-up position.

Xisuma’s crying did not relent, his shoulders heaving, now a mess on the cell floor.

It took Xisuma well over fifteen minutes, but once he composed himself, he called out, “Hayden? I have made my decision.”

Half a minute later, the cell door opened as the Doctor strode in. “So, what will it be, Xisuma, your brother’s name, or your friend?” Xisuma could practically hear the grin on the Doctor’s face.

Xisuma looked up into the eyes of the Doctor, hatred seeping out his own eyes. “I will not tell you my brother’s name. You will never find him.”

The Doctor’s grin fell, anger written clearly across his features, his face now turned in a sneer. “Very well then.” The Doctor pulled out the orange command block and pressed a button, the interface appearing on it, typing in the commands he wanted it to perform.

“Hey Xisuma,” Joe said from his place on the floor, “I just wanted you to know-” The first command flashed across his helmet’s screen.

System Entrance for player: joehillssays; value changed: 0 to 1. Hardcore system enabled. joehillssays: Lives Remaining: 1.

“-it’s been great being friends with y’all. I’ll never forget you. I love-” Joe didn’t get to finish before he turned to nothing more than a couple of experience orbs and a small pile of dust.

joehillssays fell out of the world.

Thousands of blocks away, a lone dog felt something in him change. He could feel it. His master had died. It was odd to the dog. Normally when this would happen, he would feel compelled to return to his master, but now? Now that feeling was gone – empty, almost as if his master didn’t die. He felt it though, right? It was that same feeling he always got from it.

The dog let out a low whine.

No time to dwell on it, he supposed. His master gave him a mission: to find help and deliver them this book! And he was almost there too! He could see the smoke of their campfire rising above the tree line only a short distance away. He would make his master proud!

Chapter Text

Chapter X – Ad Astra: Forced Entry

It had been nearly two years – only nearly two years – since Mumbo had blown the base to smithereens, and in those two years, he’s made quite a name for himself. He had to make a living somehow. He was one of the brightest minds in the entire Federation, so he could easily build his own technology for his needs. He already had his power armor suit – something far more advanced than anything the Federation had for even its best soldiers. Furthermore, it blended in perfectly, looking nearly identical to any Federation power armor suit, with the only difference being the dark red ‘M’ emblazoned on his chest.

In person, he was nearly unstoppable. His suit was the most advanced technological armament in the galaxy. It could easily brush off any bullet or laser blast from the otherwise weak weaponry the Federation possessed. Coupled with his broad knowledge of redstone wiring, and the fact that he was the creator of the suit, he could easily upgrade it to fit his needs.

His favorite weapon was still his redstone laser beam blaster holstered on his left hip. To blend in with other Federation soldiers, he also had a diamond-edged, two-handed, carbon steel sword, held in place on his suit on his right hip. The sword was required by all high-ranking soldiers in the Federation’s military. Having a giant ‘M’ on his chest often led to individuals believing he was some kind of officer in the Federation, so if he was going to be believed as that rank, he would need the sword to match. He purchased one for a reasonable price on the black market.

The ship Mumbo stole from the base was another thing. It was nowhere near as good as his suit and he didn’t have the funds to upgrade it, considering he couldn’t just use his old bank account. He was supposed to be dead, after all. Thus, Mumbo had to take up work that wasn’t exactly morally pure.

Mumbo became a bounty hunter. He had the tools and the analytical mind to learn how to wield any weapon in the galaxy, so why not give it a shot? He needed something to do with his life besides roaming the cosmos anyway. Most of his early runs were just roughing up those who owed his clients money.

Truth be told, Mumbo became rich quickly and was soon the most wanted man in the galaxy for two very different reasons. The black-market clientele wanted his expert work and the governments of the galaxy wanted his head, especially when more high-paying clients wanted political adversaries eliminated, which is why he had to blend in with Federation troops.

Of course, when the missions started getting riskier, Mumbo became more cautious, which was why he decided to ally himself and partner with one of the last remaining members of the Galactic species, Ranboo. The Galactics were exterminated by the Federation, with a kill on sight order to anyone willing to kill them.

Ranboo was a master of heists. Where Mumbo’s clientele largely required him to deal with people, Ranboo’s had his deal with heists. His race had an ability to teleport to anywhere within 75 feet of his location. Ranboo, short for his species but still towering over Mumbo at about seven and a half feet, was missing an eye when they first met. Ranboo claimed it was from a run-in with Federation troops. Mumbo, as an act of kindness towards the Galactic, rigged up a Redstone eye for him that allowed Ranboo to amplify his teleportation distance tenfold.

The partnership was beneficial for both parties because they were then able to take on a much harder set of missions – piracy. Redstone shipments from the various new mining outposts that the Federation owned were easy targets for the duo. The Federation was unconcerned with the missing shipments because the targets that the clientele wanted were usually of smaller quantities, so there was no need to go after the heavily armored and protected large shipments. Instead, the duo was able to target the smaller, albeit faster, vessels that normally only housed a crew of eight to ten individuals.

This client was different than the others, however. This client kept his identity quiet and said that Mumbo would get the information to meet him once he secured the shipment, which would be notified via Ranboo. The only information he was given was the number of crew members, twelve, the planet the shipment would be leaving from, Barbara I – Base: Polus, and the payment, 100 million Federal Credits. The bounty was more than five times any bounty he had ever accepted and was worth far more than the redstone shipment that the ship would carry. To string Mumbo and Ranboo along, the client gave the two 10 million Federal Credits of the payment upfront, easing the deal and setting the plan in motion.

Mumbo figured it was probably a trap, but that was why Ranboo would be within teleporting range. If it was a trap, Mumbo could kill off the crew and Ranboo could get close enough to teleport into the ship, grab Mumbo, and leave before any issues arose. Mumbo prayed that wouldn’t be the case, but it was always good to have a contingency plan.

Mumbo did his research and studied what the crew was going to look like, and he was surprised at its contents. There was one crewmate for every job; it was uncommon to have twelve crewmates and exactly one for each of the many jobs of the ship. Normally, there would be a weight on certain jobs and some jobs would have no one to fill the position for the trip, just simply due to the requirements of the mission.

Each of the crew wore a different colored suit and worked in a different part of the main floor of the ship. Orange was the Captain, normally staying in the admin. Yellow was the captain’s second in command, following the captain wherever he or she went. Brown was the janitor, cleaning the cafeteria after making the meals for the crew. Black was the doctor, staying in the medical bay, ensuring that the crew remained healthy and any prisoners were kept sedated. White was the engineer, floating around the engine rooms and ensuring the engines stayed aligned. Blue was the electrician, ensuring that the functions of the ship stay working. Purple was the navigator, staying in navigation, and making sure the ship stayed on course. Green was the communication systems engineer, staying in communications in case there were any messages to be had from the Federation. Lime was the security guard, staying in Security, making sure that everyone did the work for the day. Cyan was the scientist, staying in the reactor room, ensuring that the reactor didn’t overheat. Pink and Red were both Federation soldiers that protected the ship from any threats, inside or outside, working in shields and weapons respectively.

The ship’s name was the Skeld and Mumbo needed a place on it. His first target would be Red. Mumbo could take Red’s spot, taking Red’s Identification Card, boarding the ship without suspicion.

It was an easy enough job. He grabbed Red hours before the mission began and dragged the man into an alley in the large trading hub early in the morning. Only a fool would go walking around early morning alone before the hub became active, and Mumbo supposed that Red was a fool. Easily overpowered and a clean kill in the alley. Mumbo took the Identification Card to get on the ship and covered the body.

Hours later, Mumbo was on the Skeld and Ranboo was ready for their ship to head off of Barbara I towards the capitol. Mumbo had five days to eliminate the crew. It shouldn’t be too hard.

Mumbo was going to wait two days to start eliminating the crew, making sure that the ship was far enough from incoming Federation fleets to be a problem, but here they were, less than a day later, surrounding the main table in the cafeteria discussing the murder of a crewmate. Mumbo was surprised, to say the least. He wasn’t the killer. Mumbo had been in weapons, making sure that any asteroids that came too close to the ship were eliminated.

“What do you mean you found Green dead in communications, Lime,” the Captain yelled, clearly upset at having lost a member of the crew.

“I mean she was unresponsive sitting in her chair and when I approached her because she hadn’t exited the room since we left from Polus, her body fell over and there was a hole in her visor. It was as if someone punched her visor in, Captain,” Lime said, clearly upset. “She had a blank stare and greyed skin. I just don’t get it, Captain. She was the only one not to return to her cabin last night. I figured she was just staying up late trying to ensure the lines remained clear.”

“And what were you doing spying on her the entire time? You seemed to have been following her closely before we even took off, Lime,” Yellow accused.

Many in the crew’s helmets were off, except Mumbo’s and Black’s. The Captain began to speak slowly, eyes narrowing, “Well, it looks like we have a killer among us,” the Captain said with an air of sarcasm. “I would have no problem once we found the individual,” the Captain glared at Lime as he continued speaking saying, “sedating them if it wasn’t for the prisoner already had aboard the ship.”

‘Prisoner?’ Mumbo thought. ‘What the hell does he mean by prisoner? Wasn’t this a redstone shipment?’

“Speaking of the prisoner,” the Captain continued, “he is still sedated, right Doctor?”

“Oui, en effet, Capitaine. Je suis sûr que vous comprenez que je suis un professionnel des plus compétents. Mon patient ne quitterait jamais mes soins.” The Doctor spoke in a language that the other members of the crew did not recognize. Mumbo’s translator picked it up clear as day, though.

‘Patient?’ Mumbo thought with a laugh, ‘this doctor is an absolute nut to think that he can do work on the prisoner as if he was the Doctor’s patient.’ Mumbo was perplexed. Not as much as the rest of the crew, however. Nevertheless, Mumbo found humor in the situation. Most of the crew had little distinguishing factors to their spacesuits that gave them a bit of personality when they were with other crews that had multiple colors on a run. The Doctor happened to have a white Plague Doctor mask attached to his helmet. Calling the prisoner a patient gave Mumbo a little glee in an otherwise unfortunate situation.

The Captain spoke, “I’m sorry, Doctor. My translator is in my helmet if you wouldn’t mind-”

The Captain was cut off by the Doctor as he was trying to place his helmet back on his head. “There is no need, Captain,” the Doctor spoke in a thick pre-war British accent. “The prisoner, as you call him, is well kept in my care. He shall not be bothering us any time soon.”

‘Alongside the British accent, it was almost as if a living Plague Doctor were in the room with us,’ Mumbo thought, smiling.

“Very well, Doctor. I need you to bring the body back to the medical bay until we get back to drop off,” the Captain instructed as the Doctor gave him a slow nod. “As for the rest of the crew, I suggest keeping an eye out for anyone who seems suspicious.” The Captain shot another glare at Lime. “Back to your posts now. Blaza, Me-Me, come with me, let’s try to get the comms up and running and contact an agent to report the murder.”

“Of course, Socks,” Yellow and Cyan replied back, grinning.

‘So, it seems the Captain, Socks, knows his second in command and the reactor scientist. This may complicate things in eliminating the crew,’ Mumbo contemplated.

Once the crew split up and Mumbo was alone again, he contacted Ranboo and notified him to interfere and disable the ship’s communication systems. ‘Looks like the Skeld’s going dark.’ Mumbo smiled to himself. ‘Socks may know how to fix the comms system, but by then, more suspicion will be placed on the rest of the crew. I might as well eliminate that pesky security guard. He may have had a vendetta against Green, but he is in the way of my ability to eliminate the other crew members. Big brother will only complicate things.’

 Mumbo contemplated the choice for a moment before deciding he still needed to know who the killer was, so he didn’t pick a fight with an enemy he’d rather avoid. ‘Hmm, perhaps it would be wiser to investigate before I eliminate the crew, especially since I didn’t kill the first person.’

Mumbo stood thinking, perplexed at how there could be another killer afoot on the ship for a few minutes. ‘Perhaps the client sent out multiple hits on this same ship and there are multiple bounty hunters on board? I don’t like those odds. If that is the case, my suspicions immediately lie on-” Mumbo was cut off from his thoughts seeing the Doctor dragging the body of the communications crewmate past the meeting table in the cafeteria.

“Umm,” Mumbo hummed as he walked over to assist the Doctor to move the body of the dead woman, “You looked like you needed a hand, Doctor.”

The Doctor tilted his head up for a moment before continuing with the task, now with Mumbo carrying the legs of the deceased crewmate. It was awkward to Mumbo, to say the least.

The two threw the body onto one of the cots in the Medical Bay, or Med Bay before the Doctor went back to his instruments. Mumbo followed the Doctor, staggering behind him as he spoke. “Doctor, I noticed you speak French and was wondering where you took your education,” Mumbo began before being cut off by the Doctor’s hand, raised to silence the blubbering assassin.

“Come, sit,” the Doctor beckoned to a set of chairs near the instruments he was working on. Mumbo did as he was told, and the Doctor walked around Mumbo grabbing a black bag before sitting in the chair across from him. The bag appeared to be the Doctor’s medical satchel.

The Doctor spoke in his soft, but commanding voice, “Are you ill? You seem to be under the weather, Mister hmm,”

“Doctor Jumbo,” Mumbo filled in, “You may call me Mumbo if you’d like Doctor.”

“Ah, a doctor! A like-minded individual, no doubt. Wherein is your specialty, sir?”

“I am a Doctor in Engineering, specifically Redstone Engineering, Doctor.”

“Hmm. How unfortunate. Not a medical man, but a man of science, nonetheless. Are you ill, Mr. Jumbo?”

“Not in the slightest Doctor. I have had all my immunizations necessary for travel and was looked over by the physician back at the base only hours before we took off.” A small lie, but Mumbo did not care. He would rather not have any doctor try to locate his non-existent medical records.

“Perhaps, Mr. Jumbo, but the Pestilence does indeed catch us all one day.”

“The, uh, Pestilence?”

“Yes, the Pestilence. The Scourge! The Great Dying! My patient, you see, he is currently asleep on the cot over there,” the Doctor pointed with a gloved hand, “he has the Pestilence and must be properly treated.”

“Oh!” Mumbo exclaimed with a small grin. “So, that is why the Captain believes him to be a prisoner? Just a spreader of disease?”

“No, not at all Mr. Jumbo. I take you to be a learned man, am I correct?”

“That is correct, Doctor.”

“Then, you should understand that as a man of the Hippocratic Oath, I am bound to the health of all of my patients, including the one the Captain calls a prisoner.”

“Of course, Doctor! I never intended to insult you or your work.”

“I am sure you would not, Mr. Jumbo. After all, what are but mild disagreements between professionals? A small squabble between colleagues? Water under the bridge, Mr. Jumbo. However, do stay in your lane. I feel that you are a smart man of industrial talents but do leave the medical business to me. You must understand that my only concern is to rid the worlds of the Pestilence. I do have the cure after all – and I will cure all who contract the Pestilence – but it still does take time.”

“Indeed, Doctor. I would never dare set foot in a field I did not have the knowledge to contribute. You are right in saying I am an educated man. I am an engineer.” Mumbo could not resist bolstering his own prowess, even if just to intimidate the Doctor. The Doctor would be dead eventually anyway. “I do enjoy the pursuit of knowledge, however, Doctor, and if you would humor me, I would enjoy your explanation on the concerning Pestilence and how you came about a cure to it.”

The Doctor humored Mumbo and discussed at length the Pestilence that ravaged the Doctor’s patients. As the discussion continued, Mumbo noticed that the Doctor never discussed the cure that he mentioned earlier. Mumbo began to get the sense that the Pestilence sounded more like the Black Death from centuries ago than any modern disease. When he voiced this belief, however, the Doctor just scoffed, believing Mumbo to have been a man of science and progress. When Mumbo tried to say he was, the Doctor brushed him off and requested Mumbo leave the Med Bay.

Without so much as a farewell, Mumbo went back to his post for the time being to digest the conversation with the Doctor. The Doctor was an enigma, practically a walking version of a Plague Doctor from the 14^th Century. Maybe Mumbo would just stay away from the odd man for now and give him his space.

As the hours passed by, Mumbo began to get restless. He supposed it had to be getting close to the next mealtime, so he headed to the cafeteria. What awaited him in the cafeteria was not what he had planned on finding.

There was the janitor, his helmet off, crawling on the floor, his skin gray and a dead look on his face. Mumbo was quick to run around the zombie-like being in order to hit the button on the table, calling all personnel on board to the cafeteria for an emergency meeting. The being began chasing Mumbo, crawling using its arms.

First to arrive were Socks, Blaza, and Me-Me – Orange, Yellow, and Cyan – followed shortly by Purple and Pink. When Socks saw the reanimated version of the janitor, he screamed in a way most uncharacteristic of his title, Blaza laughing at his discomfort as Me-Me tried to lure the zombie-like being towards Pink, who had his blaster raised at the being. A quick shot from the laser blaster and the janitor was unmoving, dead, what they hoped to be, for the last time.

“What the heck was that!” the Socks yelled, now looking at Mumbo.

“If I knew, I would not have called the meeting, Captain,” Mumbo responded. At that moment, the Doctor came slowly strolling into the cafeteria from the direction of Med Bay, White only moments behind him.

“Well, somebody has to know something! I was with Blaza and Me-Me in Admin. Red, you found the, well, what was left of Brown. The three of us never saw a soul pass by Admin,” Socks said, Blaza and Me-Me voicing their agreements. “Did you see anybody come through this way?”

Mumbo knew what Socks was getting at. If nobody came past the Admin room and nobody walked by Mumbo, that left only one way – through the Med Bay entrance to the cafeteria. There was a security camera at the entrance, so whoever went through that way would have been seen by Lime.

“No, I saw no one go past me, Captain. If memory serves me right, that leaves only that entrance,” Mumbo said pointing towards Med Bay, “which has a security camera with a visual by Lime. You were thinking Lime could point us in the direction of our killer, correct?”

“Correct, Red. Lime should be here any moment now and we will fill him in when he gets here.”

The crew in the cafeteria waited for fifteen minutes before Me-Me spoke up. “Y’know Socks, I don’t think he’s coming. Also, I think we are still down one other besides Green, Brown, and Lime.”

Socks did a quick headcount before realizing Blue was also missing. “Blue was in electrical, right? She went straight there after the last meeting. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to check there? Group meeting towards electrical then!” Socks said with a half-held smile.

Mumbo thought that the Captain would probably have been a fun fellow to be around if it weren’t for the circumstances.

The eight remaining crew members went as a group towards electrical, Mumbo, and the Doctor at the rear. Mumbo decided now was as good of a time as any to apologize to the Doctor. Mumbo might have to kill everyone on board, but he still liked to be professional.

“Doctor,” Mumbo began, “I wanted to apologize again. I seem to have misunderstood the Pestilence. I enjoyed your vast knowledge on the subject and appreciated your patience. I hope we can still be respectful colleagues.”

The Doctor looked at Mumbo for a moment before opening his satchel and taking out an item. “It is all fine, Mr. Jumbo. We are both men of science, after all. But I can sense it,” he said dropping an old silver teaspoon in Mumbo’s now awaiting hand, “the Pestilence is here, and I can sense it. It is my duty in life to rid the world of it. My cure is most effective, and I hope you will soon understand that Mr. Jumbo. That spoon is one I was gifted by one of my patients back in France. It was said to be of royal origin. And you, Mr. Jumbo, are a royal spoon to not believe I would forgive a fellow man of science. I hope this shows the" the Doctor paused for a moment, “civility of scientific men.” He paused a moment, staring down at Mumbo for a short while. Mumbo felt the air around him shift significantly. “Do not make the same mistake a third time, Mr. Jumbo. I am not that patient.”

“I – I – uh, umm, thank you, Doctor. I shall certainly keep that in mind,” Mumbo, now flustered, replied. “I shall remember it as a token of our scientific comradery.”

The crew approached the electrical area and immediately heard groaning coming from within. Pink moved in front, blaster raised towards the dimly lit room. Mumbo also decided to raise his own blaster and approached Pink. As the crew worked their way towards the back, the sound of the groaning only grew, and the lights dwindled until it was nearly pitch black. Mumbo, once again being the only individual with his helmet on, besides the Doctor, hit a button on the side of his helmet and activated the suit’s night vision. There on the floor was Blue, only about fifteen feet in front of the crew, crawling in the same manner Brown had been minutes before. Mumbo let off a shot from his blaster, right at the head of what used to be Blue, eliciting a yelp from a couple of the crewmates.

“Well, it looks like whatever happened to Brown happened to Blue,” Mumbo said as Blaza and Me-Me got the lights fully running in the room.

The Captain spoke up. “Doctor, I’ll need you to take the bodies of Blue and Brown to the Med Bay. I think we ought to check the camera room to see if Lime knows what happened.”

The crew, except the Doctor, followed the Captain to the Security room only to find it devoid of life; the room was empty.

“I don’t think we’re going to be able to check the camera feed until we land, since we don’t have Lime’s access code. We will only be able to see what is currently playing out in those places,” Blaza said, eyes narrowing as he approaches the screens displaying the current feed. He pointed to the top-right image. “See. That is the camera outside of Admin.” The Doctor appeared on-screen dragging the deceased body of Blue. “And there’s Black. It’s kind of funny, don’t you think Socks? Our doctor looks just like a plague doctor, with a silly mask and everything.” Blaza let out a short laugh.

Socks just kept watching the screen, a small smile donning his face. Mumbo figured the man couldn’t have been much older than himself. He still looked quite young. It seemed out of place to have such a young face hold so much worry.

The Captain’s face scrunched up in concern. “If Lime isn’t here, then there’s a good chance that either he is the killer and has done whatever it is to the other three or he is one as well. If any of you see him, you have my permission to kill on sight. Either way, Lime isn’t in the right state of mind. I would rather deal with the repercussions of upper management than need to lose another member of my crew.”

Socks closed his eyes and let out a low hum. “I think we should also try and mitigate the problem. Pink, you go with Black and stay paired up until we find Lime. Purple, White, you two do the same. Red, you’ll be with Blaza, Me-Me, and me.” The energetic, hopeful look reappeared on Socks’s face “If we stick together, Lime, or whoever this happens to be, won’t be able to kill us off, at least not without a fight.

‘It’s a shame that whoever is doing these killings isn’t me,’ Mumbo thought grimly, ‘because everyone will surely have a false sense of hope when we catch whoever it is before being eliminated themselves.’ A small voice in the back of Mumbo’s mind corrected him, ‘if we catch them.’ He’d rather not have to deal with that scenario.

Chapter Text

Chapter XI – Ad Astra – The Rings of Saturn

The other three members of the crew went off in their separate directions and Mumbo stayed behind in Security with Socks, Blaza, and Me-Me.

Socks began to speak, “Red, I don’t really trust you or Black. You were in Med Bay for so long, I was tempted to come there myself before you left. Then, lo and behold, two members of my crew turn into crawling corpses and another is missing. Pink can hold his own against Black if Black happens to be the murderer. He is a Federation soldier like you and I, after all.”

‘Ah, so that’s how the young captain got his rank. It’s not that he’s been in the government position, but he was an actual soldier,’ Mumbo thought to himself with a slight frown. ‘Thankfully for me, it appears that Socks doesn’t have a weapon on him.’

“Captain, I respect your decision, but you must understand, I have not killed anyone aboard this ship. I was the last person left in the cafeteria after our meeting discussing the dead Green. I was trying to steel myself for the need to do an investigation. After all, it would not be right for us to not have investigated the matter even when we landed, so I wanted to get as many clues nailed down as I could before then. I was only jostled out of my thoughts when I saw the Doctor struggling to carry Green back to Med Bay, as you requested. Black may be fairly tall, but he looks frail and Green was a heavier woman. I trust that you see why I assisted Black bring the dead to Med Bay?”

The Captain closed his eyes in thought, hand against his chin. Blaza and Me-Me eyed each other, trying to say what they both thought without actually saying any words.

Socks looked up, a small smile on his face. “I suppose that checks out. What was your name again, Red?”

‘Pants!’ Mumbo thought. He never did check the name of the person he replaced when he took their ID. He did have his own forged one, which he could use when asked. ‘The Captain will know I’m not who is supposed to be on this ship.’

“My name is Mumbo Jumbo.”

The Captain’s face darkened. “Mumbo Jumbo?” He eyed his second in command. “Wasn’t the red Federation soldier supposed to be a Carto Onz?”

The man in yellow slowly shook his head, now eyeing Mumbo. “Socks, I think we have an imposter among us.”

‘Think Mumbo, think! Don’t be stupid! There has to be a way-’ Mumbo remembered seeing the logs of the ships to dock back at the Polis base and remembered the ship that was supposed to be docked before the Skeld was called the Solarweld.

“What do you mean, imposter? I was set to assist as a guard to defend the Solarweld and her redstone shipment from any privateers and she made her delivery!” Mumbo yelled, trying to intimidate the poor captain. It seemed to have done the job as Blaza flinched and Socks deflated.

“I – um. Hmm,” Socks stumbled over his words. “I regret to inform you, Mr. Jumbo, but this isn’t the Solarweld. That ship left before we arrived. I think you may have boarded the wrong ship.”

Mumbo feigned concern. “What do you mean this isn’t the Solarweld? What ship is this then?”

Socks appeared to mull over his next words carefully. “This is the Skeld,” Socks replied, “I’m sorry for accusing you, Mr. Jumbo. I didn’t realize it. I didn’t – There should.” He paused for a moment, steadying himself. “There must have been a mistake in your assignment listing. Blaza, would you mind giving Mumbo a rundown on what we are actually carrying?”

“Well, you see, Mumbo. We are currently carrying two different things. One, you know of already – the prisoner. The other is, well, it’s technically redstone.” Blaza let out a nervous laugh.

Me-Me picked up where Blaza left off. “It’s redstone of sorts. A foot cubed cube. If you put in a coding list into its input monitor, well, depending on what you put in, you can get really anything to happen. You can teleport, produce items at will, anything your imagination can produce, it can produce. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.”

“And that’s in storage? Shouldn’t it be more safely guarded, if it is such an important shipment? Aren’t there just a lot of empty crates currently in there with it?” Mumbo asked.

Socks looked up, hand behind his head in embarrassment. “It had to remain inconspicuous. As the Captain, I knew. So did my second in command, Blaza. Me-Me is a good friend of ours, so we might have let it slip,” Socks said sheepishly. “As for the empties in storage, they are technically empty boxes. However, this ship’s next mission is a redstone shipment, so we figured we would bring some empty redstone packaging crates for the shipment there, just in case someone needed them.”

“It also provides more cover for the actual shipment,” Blaza added in.

Instantly, the room was cast into darkness, as well as the hallway outside of Security. Mumbo’s night vision on his suit kicked in and he saw Socks fumble through his suit to activate a light, which activated once he pressed on a certain button on his suit.

“Electricity seems to be out,” Blaza stated. “We should go check it out.”

The four went over to Electrical, hearing groans escalate in volume as they got closer.

“Be on the lookout for any of those things again. Those groans sound just like before,” Mumbo said.

Sure enough, the main electrical grid had been torn apart. Mumbo could distinctly make out two different voices groaning from deeper into Electrical.

“Do any of you three know how to fix the wiring?” Mumbo asked, looking deeper into the dark room, his night vision not showing anything out of the ordinary.

“I do,” Me-Me responded, already at work trying to fix the wiring.

Mumbo pulled out his blaster and pointed it towards the back of the room. He slowly made his way towards the back of Electrical, one foot purposefully and carefully placed down in front of the other, his knees slightly crouched. The groaning was coming from two different sides of the room. Mumbo looked left down one corridor, then right down the next, repeating this as he went deeper into the room.

Mumbo was only about twenty feet from the back of the room when he heard quick shuffling to his left. There was White, crawling at him using only her arms, moving at about the same speed as someone would be running, face ashen and gaunt and eyes dulled. Mumbo did not hesitate before landing a shot between the eyes of the otherwise lifeless crewmate.

More groaning and the same shuffling sound came now from behind him. ‘Well, this is pants. My blaster has to recharge!’ Mumbo has always felt more confident in his ability to shoot a firearm, compared to wielding his sword.

Dropping his blaster and grabbing the sword from his right hip with his left hand, he prepared for the thing rushing at him. Mumbo dropped into a lower stance and propelled himself forward. With a broad swing with the flat end of the sword, Mumbo knocked the being backward and practically threw it at one of the walls of electrical panels. The wiring snapped and proceeded to electrocute the being until the distinct smell of burning flesh overwhelmed Mumbo’s senses. A few moments later and the body, now burnt, fell to the floor.

“What’s going on back there, Mumbo?” Socks asked as the lights started to flicker back on.

“The other two crewmates, White and Purple,” Mumbo replied, “seem to have turned into the same thing that Brown and Blue were earlier.

Mumbo heard Socks let out a string of curses as he approached Mumbo, Blaza and Me-Me not far behind him. Their faces scrunched up at the smell of burnt flesh, Blaza gagging.

“Socks,” Mumbo began. Mumbo was tall and typically liked to use intimidation tactics to get his way. His height was a great advantage to pursuing that endeavor and he wasn’t about to shy away from the tactic now, especially when his own life could be at peril. He approached Socks and got closer than what would be comfortable to the Captain. “I think there should be no doubt in your mind when I say that I was not the one who has been causing these monstrosities to occur. I have my suspicions that Lime may be the culprit behind these incidents since we have yet to locate him. I would like to run a background check on him using your access to the admin panel.”

Socks, shaken up from losing another two members of his crew, slowly nodded his head.

The four exited Electrical and tried to go directly to Admin but the doors leading that way were locked. “What do you mean ‘locked’!?” Socks exclaimed. “I am the captain of the ship! How do I not have access?”

“We will just need to go around,” Me-Me said, looking to the hallway past Electrical. “You know, past Security and Med Bay.”

As they passed Med Bay, Mumbo realized that they didn’t know if the Doctor and Pink were still alive. Unfortunately, like the doors near Electrical, the Med Bay doors were locked as well. The group continued through the cafeteria until they made it to the Admin room.

Socks granted Mumbo access to the admin panel and Mumbo began his investigation. He entered the file with all individuals who were supposed to be on the ship. Before Mumbo looks into Lime’s file, however, something else – or rather two things – catch his eye.

The prisoner and the Doctor are both present on the count. They are both passengers on the Skeld, of course. However, their outfits are the same, right down to the white Plague Doctor mask.

“Hey Socks, mind telling me a little bit about our prisoner on board?”

Socks looks up from what he was doing. “I mean, I don’t know much. Black is supposed to keep the prisoner sedated because apparently, he had gone on a killing spree with nothing but his bare hands. I heard rumors from other personnel back on Polus that, before he was sedated, he kept muttering about some kind of disease. Pestilence, or something like that?”

The color drained from Mumbo’s face. He could feel his heart rate quicken and sweat form on his brow. “P-pestilence?” He stuttered out.

“Yeah, he was absolutely insane! Some five hundred people dead overnight. It was a real shame. When they finally caught him, his only excuse was that the people were finally cured. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.” Socks let out a dry laugh.

Mumbo stood still, petrified as a realization washed over him.

“He has the Pestilence and must be properly treated.”

“The Pestilence is here, and I can sense it. It is my duty in life to rid the world of it. My cure is most effective.”

‘Black – the Doctor – was the killer all along! But, how? How was he able to pull it off?’ Mumbo decided to look into the Doctor’s file.

Opening the file only gave Mumbo two bits of information. The first was that ‘The Doctor’ was clearly not human – or at the very least, not treated as human. His real title was SCP-049. The second was that Mumbo could not access anything else in the file; the only thing in the file in large, bold font stated: REDACTED.

Mumbo had to decide if he wanted more information. Doing nothing, and go up against this SCP character blind, or blow his cover and contact Ranboo.

Mumbo decided on the latter.

He grabbed his blaster from its holster and pointed it at Socks. “All of you! On the ground! Now!”

Socks’s face went from surprise to fear to betrayal. Slowly, the three got down on the ground, looking at Mumbo. Mumbo pressed his right finger against his helmet, contacting Ranboo. “Ranboo, you there?”

“Yeah, what do you need, Mumbo?”

“I need you to run a search of Federation files. SCP-049. I need any info you can get me on it. Weaknesses, tactics, you know, the whole thing. Also, turns out the package isn’t a full redstone shipment. Just a magic box.”

“Will do, Mumbo. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

The call ended. Socks’s expression was filled with rage. “What is all this? Huh?”

“Well, you see, Socks. I’m a bounty hunter,” the angered expression dropping from Socks’s face into a one of betrayal as Mumbo spoke, “and my bounty is currently on your shipment. No, I didn’t kill anyone on board. That seems to be the fault of our good friend, the Doctor. If you all haven’t connected those dots, the Doctor wouldn’t stop talking about ‘Curing the Pestilence.’ To be frank, I don’t know much about him, which is why I needed my partner here to research on my behalf.”

Mumbo paused for a moment, glancing over at the entrance to Admin. “I would rather not have to kill you three. I’ve taken a liking to you guys, so let’s cut a deal. You can help me take down the Doctor, assist me in getting the shipment off the ship, and I’ll let you three live.”

Blaza spoke up through gritted teeth. “And if we don’t accept your deal?”

“Well, I kill you, of course. I have my blaster and my sword. The three of you are unarmed. You do the math.” Mumbo was grateful that he still had his helmet on, so they couldn’t see his grimace. He really didn’t want to have to kill them. Nobody he eliminated had a name; it was kept from him so he wouldn’t get attached. These three did and they seemed to have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The three paused for a moment, weighing their options. “Well,” Socks began, “it seems we don’t really have much of a choice, now do we?”

“Nope, you don’t,” Mumbo replied with a smile.

“Fine, then. What’s the plan now?”

“We will have to wait for my partner to respond with some information on the Doctor. In the meantime, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll guard the entrance.”

The minutes passed, Socks, Blaza, and Me-Me having gotten up off the floor moments after the interaction. Some thirty minutes later, Ranboo contacted Mumbo.

“Mumbo, you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here, Ranboo.”

“From what I can find, SCP-049 is labeled as a Euclid class by the SCP Foundation, which also considers it an ‘Agent of Darkness,’ whatever that is supposed to mean. The mask that it wears isn’t a mask, but is actually part of its body, as is its entire cloak. It seems to be invulnerable to any types of physical attacks, so your sword and blaster may be absolutely useless. Don’t let it touch you either. It emits a toxic chemical upon contact that will instantly kill you.”

“R-Ranboo? How are we supposed to kill it then?”

“I don’t know, Mumbo. That’s for you to figure out. You’ve got a pretty smart head on your shoulders, so I think you’ll be able to figure it out.” Ranboo then hung up.

Mumbo stood in stunned silence for a few moments, trying to come up with a solution. Then, it hit him.

“How hard would it be to eject the Doctor from the ship without touching him, Socks?”

“Like, baiting him? Unless he went in there voluntarily, I don’t think it would be that easy.”

“I mean, will the doors stay open long enough for us to possibly hit him in there?”

“Yeah, I think they would. It’s just the airlock, so we can keep that open as long as we want.”

“Socks, Me-Me, you two will stay by the airlock then and ensure that it stays open. Blaza, you are going to come with me to bait the Doctor out of Med Bay. Whatever you guys do, do not let him touch you.”

The other three seemed apprehensive, but they moved to their positions, Blaza following Mumbo to Med Bay. As they approached Med Bay, Mumbo stood in front of Blaza.

Mumbo went up and knocked on the still shut door of the Med Bay room. “Doctor? I would like to discuss with you if you are available.”

When no response came, Mumbo tried to open the doors but was unsuccessful.

“What do we do now?” Blaza asked.

“We could try to-” Mumbo was cut off by screams down the hallway.

“Socks! Me-Me! That was them!”

Blaza took off running back towards the airlock. Mumbo was quick to follow.

The Doctor was chasing down Socks and Me-Me on the other side of the room. Rather, the Doctor was walking at a brisk pace, easily matching the running speeds of Socks and Me-Me.

SCP-049 was speaking calmly as it walked. “I sense the disease in you. I am the cure. Do not be afraid, I am the cure. Stop resisting, I'm here to cure you.”

Mumbo came rushing at the Doctor, sword out in front of him. Launching himself at it, Mumbo slammed the broad side of the sword into it, to avoid directly touching the SCP. Mumbo sent the Doctor flying towards the airlock. “Mr. Jumbo,” the SCP spoke as it stood back up, “I thought you said you were healthy, and yet the Pestilence riles inside you. It’s worse than I-” The Doctor was cut off as Mumbo again slammed himself into it, throwing both himself and the Doctor into the airlock. Mumbo jumped to his feet as the Doctor was still struggling to get out of the daze Mumbo put it in. Mumbo pulled out his blaster and fired at the Doctor.

It didn’t do much in terms of actually harming the near-invincible Doctor. However, the blast sent the Doctor back to the ground and gave Mumbo time to escape from the airlock. Mumbo would have made it out too, if it wasn’t for the fact that Blaza had just pulled the lever, trapping him in the airlock with the Doctor.

“What are you doing?! Let me out of here!” Mumbo shouted.

Blaza smirked and waved his hand as Mumbo heard the airlock begin to open behind him to the vacuum of space. He quickly activated his airtight suit and activated the gravity implants on his boots, allowing him to stay grounded on the ship.

He pressed a button on the side of his helmet. “Ranboo! Teleport me out now! I’m about to be jettisoned into space!”

“One second.”

Instantly, a ship about a quarter of the size of the Skeld appeared, traveling alongside it. Mumbo heard the distinct ‘vwoop’ that Ranboo made whenever he teleported and Ranboo appeared right in front of Mumbo, now grabbing his arm. Not a moment later, they reappeared on their ship.

“So, how are we going to get rid of them? Go in guns a-blazing, or just blow out the engines and maroon them?” Ranboo asked already grabbing his own blaster from its place in the cockpit.

“I want them to stay alive. We can get in and out with the shipment; it’s only a small-sized cube.”

“Well, I guess we can avoid the bloodshed,” Ranboo said as he paused, looking off in the distance for a moment. “Any idea where the shipment is?”

“Storage. Other side of the ship from where I was ejected. There’s a bunch of empty containers they said.”

“Got it. We’ll check through their storage and find it. If it’s the only product, it shouldn’t be much of a problem. Hang on.” And Mumbo did, as they were teleported back onto the Skeld.

After five minutes of searching for the shipment, they found it. They teleported back to their ship and departed from the Skeld to meet their client for the payment. Ranboo said he’d the client and let Mumbo know what the plan was later.

Mumbo decided to inspect the cube. It was indeed a foot sized cube. It was orange with blinking lights on it, an input screen that, when tapped could allow for a string of code to be placed. It appeared that there were minuscule redstone wires throughout the cube. If what Me-Me said was true, then Mumbo could get whatever he wanted from this cube, if he only knew how to operate it. He figured it would be better not to mess with the technology.

“Hey, Ranboo?” Mumbo said as he set the cube down, “Who was that client?”

“Ahh, well. You know the president of Diamond Enterprises?”

“Diamond Knight? You’re joking, right?” Mumbo, flabbergasted, replied.

“Nope. Him.”

And that was the moment Mumbo began freaking out.

Mumbo woke up from his sleep with a scare. He didn’t understand it. Another nightmare. Another vivid nightmare. And why were they always in space? Who was the enderman? He’d never even been to space. Heck! He didn’t even know if you could go to space! He just didn’t understand it. Maybe he’d ask someone about it when everything smoothed over. But first, he had to fix Iskall’s eye.

Chapter Text

Chapter XII – Ad Astra – Requiem

“Diamond Knight? President of Diamond Enterprises? The Diamond Knight?” Mumbo was up on his feet now, a look of jubilation present on his face.

“The one and only, Mumbo,” Ranboo replied, smug and confident.

“I just – I can’t believe it, Ranboo! Ranboo! You know who revolutionized the engineering world! Diamond Enterprises did! Headed by the mysterious Diamond Knight! Do you know why I decided to study engineering? Why did I decide to specialize in redstone engineering? Diamond Knight! He was successful, he was innovative, and he was one of the biggest benefactors of education in the entire Federation! He was the one who paid for my entire education. It was a scholarship that he sponsored that allowed me to study what I loved. He’s my hero, Ranboo! I just – I’m so excited, Ranboo! I have all of his books, Ranboo, even his most obscure one: Honoring Horticulture: Perfecting Prestigious Poppies. You have no idea!”

“I get it, Mumbo. I really do, but you have to keep a level head so we can get paid and get out of there. We don’t know why he wants that cube, and if it is what you say it is, then I’d rather us not get in a situation that I can’t teleport us away from,” Ranboo said softly. He looked over his shoulder at Mumbo, gesturing to the specs of light of the stars passing by. “We can’t get lost in the stars, Mumbo, or we might not come home. Let’s stay calm, okay? I care about our safety and I care about your livelihood. We can retire with this money, Mumbo. We can be set for life. Let’s not lose our heads in the process.”

Mumbo’s face fell in disappointment. “But, Ranboo, it’s Diamond Knight. He-”

“He probably won’t even be the one meeting us. Heck! Do you even know what he looks like, Mumbo? We don’t even know the guy. It has been over two decades since he last showed his face! You were barely born, Mumbo! I wasn’t even born yet, Mumbo! Just calm down, okay?”

Mumbo looked to his side, hands falling beside him. “You’re right,” Mumbo said, dejectedly, “I just need to calm down.” With a huff, Mumbo sat back down.

“And besides, he’s just another client, Mumbo. There’s nothing special about him. You’re the important one, not him.” Ranboo grabbed Mumbo’s shoulder as a gesture of friendliness, but Mumbo just shrugged it off.

Mumbo stared out of the window of the ship for a short while before asking in a low rumble, “So, how long until we get to Earth? I assume that’s the meeting point.”

“About five hours. Go take a nap. I know you need one. I’ll let you know when we are within orbit.”

“Okay, okay. I will. See you soon, Ranboo.” Mumbo left the cockpit and went to the sleeping quarters and went to sleep.

Just over five hours later, Ranboo’s voice projected over the speaker system. “Mumbo, we’re in Earth’s orbit.”

Mumbo rubbed his eyes, sitting up. “I’ll be over in a moment.”

A few minutes later and Mumbo was now in his seat in the cockpit. “Will we be landing in a London station, Ranboo?”

“Not quite. We will actually be docking in a private station in a small town just south of Aberdeen in Scotland.”

“A private station? Diamond Enterprises is located in London, not Aberdeen. Any word as to why Aberdeen?”

“He said he wanted to keep the transfer private but still wanted to meet us at his headquarters afterward. Something about future endeavors together?”

Mumbo paused for a moment. “I don’t quite understand, Ranboo. He wants us to do the drop off in Aberdeen but wants to meet us at his headquarters in London. I know we will get the payment through a nondescript transaction into our account but what does he want with us in London?”

“He just said he wanted to discuss some kind of future endeavors. I don’t have the biggest interest in getting caught, but we have to do what he says if we want the money. If we upset him, we could jeopardize getting paid.”

“Well, if anything moves south, Ranboo, I won’t go down without a fight. He may be Diamond Knight, but I still have a life I want to live.”

Ranboo just shrugged, mumbling something along the lines of, “whatever you say.”

It took about half an hour before they were given the go-ahead to land in Aberdeen.

Upon landing, Mumbo noticed there were four men in black suits with red ties standing in the docking station. Mumbo grabbed the cube and headed out of the ship, Ranboo behind him, concealing his own weapon in the breast pocket of Ranboo’s suit.

Ranboo’s dress suit was just like Mumbo’s own dress suit. When Ranboo and Mumbo first met and started working together, Ranboo had been fascinated by the beauty of Mumbo’s business suit. Mumbo was sure to bring Ranboo to his tailor and get him fitted for a few suits as a gift. Ranboo’s favorite was the black one with the red tie, a near-identical copy of Mumbo’s own, the only difference being the changes in length and size.

One of the suited men spoke. “Our Lord would love for you to meet him at his office in London. It would normally be a few hour trip by car, but he has his private helicopter for you two to take to his headquarters. He said to take the package to him as well.”

Mumbo and Ranboo looked at each other for a moment before Mumbo nodded. “Show us the way then.”

The man nodded and the cohort led Mumbo and Ranboo towards an advanced helicopter, clearly built around state of the art redstone technology.

Within an hour, the helicopter was approaching the London skyline. Diamond Enterprises was not in the center of the city, but it was near the center. It was the tallest building, itself an imposing image of business, progress, and renewal in a city that, less than half a century ago, was left decimated by the most recent world war. The building easily stood over 1,500 feet, towering above every other building in the London skyline.

Mumbo knew the stories of how the massive business came to exist; London was his home after all. Following the end of the NATO – Soviet World War, Diamond Enterprises was born, winning contract after contract to rebuild the city using its advanced engineering tactics, bolstered by its mysterious, albeit superior, supply chain. Funded by American dollars and British brilliance, London was the first major world city to be rebuilt following the war. Many other western cities, such as Paris, Rome, and New York City, were quick to follow.

The dawn of redstone technology only reinforced Diamond Enterprises’s dominance. By this time, the nations of Earth had banded together under the title of “The Federation” in order to fight extraterrestrial foes such as the Galactics. At the same time, the last of the leaders from the days of war were stepping down and their successors were cruel and egotistical, utilizing every tactic to crush their opponents, politically or militarily. It was why the Federation became so feared by the other races of the galaxy before the human race won its war against the Galactics.

It was almost by raw luck that the first interplanetary mining expedition was sent out by Diamond Enterprises and it happened to find the resource in abundance, a resource which the company seemed to know far too much about to be normal. No one questioned it because Diamond Enterprises offered its services once again to Earth. Within weeks, Diamond Enterprises proposed feats of technology that would come to benefit the Federation to such lengths that, had the business not existed, would have taken the Federation with its greatest minds a century to imagine.

Like the diamond edge to Mumbo’s sword, Diamond Enterprises was the diamond edge to the Federation, cutting down anyone that dared make an enemy of it. Without Diamond Enterprises, the Federation would be virtually powerless.

As the helicopter touched down and Mumbo and Ranboo exited it, so did the four men in suits. Standing on the platform were four other men in black suits with red ties, now totaling eight.

“We will escort you to our Lord’s office. His only request is that your helmet stays off. He prefers to talk to actual faces, not masks shrouded in darkness,” one of the new suited men said.

Mumbo balked momentarily before slowly nodding his head and pressing his free hand against a button on his helmet, which collapsed it back into his suit.

Mumbo and Ranboo followed the lead of the men as they descended into the building. Three of the men were in front of them, three behind, and one on either side. Upon closer inspection, Mumbo noticed that each of the men in suits surrounding Ranboo and him wore a poppy in – or on, Mumbo wasn’t too sure – their left breast pocket of their suit coats.

Mumbo knew Mr. Knight enjoyed flowers – he wrote a book on one after all – but the company’s inclusion of the poppy in even the employees’ uniforms was a nice touch that Mumbo never knew about before today.

To say Mumbo was intimidated by the entrance to Mr. Knight’s office would be an understatement. Mumbo knew they were on the top floor of the building, but the ceiling of the hallway leading to the office had to have been at least fifty feet tall. The doors were some kind of black stone, outlined by two quartz pillars. The walls were made of polished stone bricks, overlain in a beautiful fashion. The floor was a type of maroon brick, a material of which Mumbo had never seen before. The most striking aspect of the room, however, had to be the continuance of the same quartz pillars that lined the door. There were many of these quartz pillars that seemed to stretch down a hallway, far larger than the building could possibly hold. Mumbo had never seen such beauty. These quartz pillars seemed to be intact, singular, solid pieces of quartz that must have cost Mr. Knight a fortune. There were no windows to be seen, just torches hanging on the pillars and lanterns attached to chains hanging from the ceiling. It was truly a sight to behold.

The group stopped about forty feet from the entrance. The man next to Mumbo spoke, “my Lord is awaiting your arrivals. He shall be out shortly to meet you.” The man reached into his breast pocket and removed the poppy. “My Lord’s favorite flower is the poppy. It is a sign of remembrance and, like the war that spurned it, was once again revitalized in the fields of the fallen, following the last war. My Lord’s wish is to not be forgotten, nor forget the horrors of war which has plagued his entire life. Take this poppy as a gift. He shall find favor in you.” At that, the suited men left the room. They left a dumbfounded Mumbo and Ranboo, waiting for one of the most powerful people in the galaxy to meet them.

Mumbo stared at the small poppy in the pot on the bedside table, gently brushing the flower.

Mumbo was not too sure why he was fascinated with poppies. Maybe it was their red color – his favorite color – that made him like the flower. He liked redstone, although he didn’t like roses. They didn’t feel the same.

Maybe it was their fragrance. It could put someone to sleep with how soothing of a smell it emitted. He didn’t like to sleep; he always had work to do.

Maybe it was because they reminded him of that red sun from his first world – the one that never set – the world where he had all the powers of a deity. He learned later that he was just in creative mode. No. He hated that desert the moment Xisuma showed him what an actual world was, with real people. He never wanted to go back there again.

Maybe the flowers meant something. He couldn’t remember what poppies stood for. He knew they stood for something. Perhaps it was something to do with the iron golems. He would have to ask someone when this all blew over.

Maybe it was the color. Maybe it was like the color of his best friend’s – ex-best friend’s – shirt. He needed to rethink his relationship with Grian. They had always been close friends. Ever since Xisuma sent Mumbo world searching for Season Five and Mumbo had stumbled upon Grian in his Evo realm, Mumbo wandering around Grian’s city and admiring the architecture. How ecstatic Mumbo had been when only a season later, Grian practically begged to join Hermitcraft. His best friend, with all of his other best friends. It was practically heaven on earth. And now Grian thought he was stupid. No, that wasn’t Grian. Or was it? Not now.

What even were poppies to Mumbo?

Red.

Consistent.

Full of life.

He had the first two. However, the last concept Mumbo never felt he had. To be full of life was to have a beginning, a middle, and an end; a story. Everyone else had a story of how they got to Hermitcraft. Everyone always said that they don’t talk about their pasts, but everyone came to Mumbo. They always told him how they ended up here. Perhaps not the whole story, but enough details to suffice. They always hoped that maybe he’d let on to what his past had been – what it had been before Hermitcraft. But he always had the same answer. He was spawned in a creative world where it was a flat desert with a never-setting red sun. He spent all his time there building redstone contraptions because something in him told him he had to build them, had to get out, had to get to something or someone. It was like a daze – a red hazy daze. It was a different red than the poppies. The poppies were comforting. The red of the desert was suffocating.

Mumbo’s thoughts came to a halt as he realized that the poppy he was holding was now crushed in his hand.

“Oh! Goodness me!” Mumbo exclaimed, rubbing the red dye from the poppy off of his hand. “I should wake Doc soon. He won’t like having a headache from his hangover, but I just cannot operate on the wiring in Iskall’s diamond eye without the precision of Doc’s mechanical arm.”

Mumbo walked out of the bedroom and headed back to the recording room where he had left Doc sleeping. Doc was still out cold on the table. Mumbo shook Doc’s shoulder before speaking in a hushed tone. “Come on, Doc. We need to fix Iskall’s eye so we can keep moving. You have to wake up.”

Doc rolled over onto his side with a groan before pushing himself up. He gripped the side of his head before letting out a long hiss. “Mumbo? I feel like I was just hit by a ravager that had a strength potion thrown on it. What happened?” Before Mumbo could say anything, Doc realized he was rubbing his head with his mechanical arm. “Never mind,” Doc grimly said, “I figured it out.”

Mumbo shook his head, a small smile gracing his lips. “Do you feel up to operating on Iskall’s diamond eye? I can work on the eye itself if you can work on the attachment to Iskall. I’m just concerned that I don’t have the precision that you have working with your mechanical arm on something as sensitive as Iskall’s person.”

Doc paused for a moment, staring past Mumbo. “Yeah, I think I can accomplish that. If we wait too long, we risk the chance of Iskall regaining consciousness. You have the tools ready?”

“They’re scattered around the recording room, but they should all be here. Any extra materials you may need, like iron or redstone, can be found in the storage room, which is the next room down. Iskall is in the sleeping quarters in the room on the end.”

Doc just nodded and began collecting tools. Mumbo went to the sleeping quarters and grabbed Iskall’s diamond eye, bringing it back to the recording room and workbench. He passed Doc, who was carrying multiple tools, iron, and redstone, on his way.

Iskall’s diamond eye was an impressive piece of technology. He had told Mumbo how he first got it. Iskall had lost an eye back in his home dimension while serving in his nation’s military. He was a sniper then, Iskall told him. Iskall’s first Minecraft world was one of the warring kingdoms where he applied his sniper training to be a mercenary. While there, he met a man covered from head to toe in diamonds. The man said that he had connections with beings of darker origins. The man gave Iskall a mission: to assassinate the people who kidnapped the man’s friend and retrieve him. In return, the man would return Iskall’s sight alongside insurmountable wealth.

Iskall told Mumbo that he didn’t remember much after assassinating the man’s friend’s captors. He just kept saying, “It was bad. Bad. Bad. Bad! It was all bad.” Iskall said he never got a name from the man either, but once he regained consciousness – still the same day as when he left for the mission – he had a diamond where his missing eye was supposed to be, with redstone wiring connecting throughout. All that was left for him was a bag of diamonds and a note explaining how to clean and repair the new eye if need be, as well as some instructions on its finer details, such as coordinate locations and a zoom function.

Iskall showed Mumbo the note and the instructions, written in beautiful calligraphy Mumbo determined, back in Season Five so that Mumbo could assist Iskall if a situation, such as the one they were currently in, arose.

The original diamond eye was fried and had a horrible cut in it that would impede the optics for which it was intended. Mumbo had to use a new diamond, cut it to match the original, and replicate the redstone wiring that was inside and around it. It took Mumbo the better part of ten hours to do, but it was worth it. Doc finished the connector part only an hour or so before Mumbo was completed.

Upon completion, Mumbo and Doc carefully placed the eye back into the holder on Iskall’s face. Doc added a wire connector that he could use with his own mechanical eye to see what Iskall would see if he were conscious, so as to ensure that everything lined up properly and functioned the way it was intended to function.

“Thank the Creator that it worked the first time! Iskall nearly awoke when I was almost finished. He will probably wake up soon,” Doc said as he disconnected the wire connecting the two. “He will be as good as new.”

“That’s good,” Mumbo responded. “We will need to be at our best. Whatever our friends became, they are far stronger than our friends were, and far crueler too.”

Doc looked at Mumbo with a look of sympathy. “Mumbo. I know that it’s going to be hard to understand it, but him? He is not Grian, man. Grian is your best friend. He thinks you are the smartest person in the universe. I know it’s gonna take time for you to understand, but I meant what I said on the way to the bunker. I will always lend an ear, okay? We’re friends.”

Mumbo gave a sad smile. “I know, Doc. It’s just – it’s! ugh!” Mumbo threw his hands up in exasperation. “It’s not fair, Doc! I hate being called stupid! I hate that my friend called me stupid! I hate that whatever they are, changed our friends into heartless husks of their former selves! I hate that I don’t even know what to do! I just really hate this all and I want to go back to before this stupid Demise game even started!” At this point, Mumbo’s tears began to slowly fall down his face, his eyes red and his face flushed.

Doc waited a moment, contemplating his next words carefully. “I’m sorry, Mumbo. I’m sorry that I don’t have all the answers. It’s gonna be hard, man. They are not our friends. Grian wouldn’t say that about you. I’m not the greatest at giving advice,” Doc let out a low chuckle, rubbing his hands in nervousness. “But I know that we will get through this together, Mumbo. We, Hermits, are like family and family always comes back together. Mumbo. We’ll get through this together because we’re family, man.”

Doc remembered variants of those words bitterly. The first time he heard them was when it was just him and Etho left in the jungle in Season Five during the whole nHo fiasco. Etho said those words to Doc the day before Etho vanished. The second time Doc heard them, he uttered them. He said those words to Scar when Bdubs returned and he didn’t remember Doc. Doc always said he’d do anything for the nHo. In reality, he’d do anything for any of the Hermits. He might not be as close with some of them as he had been with the Hermits in the nHo, but they were still his family, and he’d do anything for his family.

“Thanks, Doc. I know. I just wish we could go back to before it all, you know? Back when our biggest concern was a build battle and a new gaming district. If I had only known then what I know now. Maybe then I could stop it.”

Doc’s face scrunched up. “What if… No. Maybe?”

“Doc?”

“Well. What if we could? What if we could go back to before it all began? Back before Demise!” Doc stood up and began pacing around the room.

“What do you mean, Doc? We can’t do that.”

“But we can, Mumbo! Grian! Grian built a time machine! It was the reason why the hippie group formed. Scar and I took Grian’s time machine! The hippies broke it when they came back from using it, but Scar and I built a replica and used it as a decoy. They used the decoy!”

“Which means the original time machine Grian built?” A look of hope appeared on Mumbo’s features, the realization dawning on his face.

“Is still there! Which means!”

“We can go back!” They said in unison.

Doc smiled and began going through the list of issues that could arise. “Grian said that if we do it right, there shouldn’t be any problems time traveling. We discussed it shortly after things calmed down. He just didn’t want to mess with the timelines anymore, which is why he destroyed what he thought was his time machine. But if this timeline is already lost? We might as well screw some things up, right?”

A light chuckle appeared behind the two. “If it means getting our friends back, I’m in.”

“Iskall! You’re awake!” Mumbo exclaimed, joy present on his weary features.

“Who wouldn’t be with you two yelling around here?” Iskall let out a hearty laugh, a tear brimming on his eye. Wiping away the tear, Iskall continued, “So, time travel, then? That’s the plan?”

“Yes,” Doc answered. “The one problem we will face is the energy source. Grian was able to use a charge with admin power given to him by Xisuma. He said that, when they went back to Alpha, a diamond block was a rare enough item to power to get back to the present. It also helped for Grian that, when they traveled to the past, he was granted admin powers and all that entailed until they returned.”

“So, how will we power the time machine without our admin?” Iskall asked.

“You know Area 77?” Doc replied. “You know the giant alien-looking machine above it? It doubles as a raid farm, but it was going to be our ticket to Season Seven. Once completed, with the final switch turned on, it would have enough energy to power a portal over to the next world without having to exit our current one. Xisuma already set up a line of code for it to power the portal beneath it. That portal, of course, was the Infinity Portal.”

Mumbo’s face filled with confusion. “Infinity Portal?”

“Yes, Infinity Portal. It’s a nether portal that uses diamond blocks instead of obsidian. Before you ask, I created it by glitching certain world mechanics and taking advantage of momentary lag. There’s nothing really special about it without the line of code that powers the change. It just looks cool.”

“And how do we get the time machine to work instead?” Iskall interjected.

Doc nodded his head, grabbing his chin in thought. Doc hummed before he spoke. “If we hack the lever running the code by momentarily changing its trajectory from the Infinity Portal to the time machine, we can power the time machine instead. We’d have to have a switch set in place so that, once the time machine leaves, the power is rediverted back to the portal. If it's not reset in that way, I’m worried that the line of code could follow the time machine back to the past and cause unexpected issues.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get started!” Iskall exclaimed.

At that moment, their communicators dinged with a notification. Doc and Iskall could see the notification first with the adjustments made to their cybernetics.

System Entrance for player: joehillssays; value changed: 0 to 1. Hardcore system enabled. joehillssays: Lives Remaining: 1.

Something shifted in Mumbo. Anxiousness? Not quite. Anger? Perhaps “What does that mean guys?” Mumbo asked looking up to the others. “What are they doing to Joe?”

“I – I don’t know, Mum-” Doc was cut off as another message appeared on their communicators.

Doc’s eyes widened and Iskall punched the wall. Mumbo looked at his communicator.

joehillssays fell out of the world.

“He’s gone,” Mumbo said. He had no tears left to fall. Mumbo looked up at Doc and Iskall with a look that hasn’t appeared on his face for some time. He was filled with determination, ambition, hatred. Mumbo’s usually dark irises had now a hint of red, lining the black orbs. Mumbo, through gritted teeth, spoke, “I want that time machine working. I want our friends back. Most of all, I want them gone!”

Chapter Text

Chapter XIII – It Doesn’t Feel Right Without You Near

White Pawn to E4.

It’s the most common opening move in the game – it’s simple, it’s predictable – it’s genius. It puts white into a place of advantage. In opening up both the bishop and the queen onto the board, White takes control of the center four spaces on the board.

Black Pawn to E5.

It’s not the most common opening move for black, but he wanted to shake up his playstyle a bit. Normally, he would move his pawn to C5, starting the ever-popular and classic Sicilian Defense. This move was safe, though. It was simple. It was unintimidating, and his opponent looked a bit worse for wear.

White Knight to F3.

Iskall was a rich man. He had been doing mercenary work as a side job from his casino dealer gig for what felt like a couple of decades. Who knew? Age didn’t matter here. Time didn’t matter here. All that mattered was the ringing of the machines, the taste of the liquor, and the rush you got when you had the chance of hitting it big. As long as you didn’t upset the wrong people, you wouldn’t end up killed, or worse, banned. The term ‘mercenary’ wasn’t exactly accurate. Sure, he’d kill some people, set them back a bit, but they’d respawn, free to live another day. That is, as long as his clients didn’t want to exacerbate the punishment. A better title for him would probably be ‘bounty hunter,’ or preferably, just ‘hunter.’ He’d hunt down people and get what his clients wanted out of them. He was good at his job. Sure, people would try to cover their tracks. Some were good at that; he’d give them that honor. But he was better.

Black Knight to C6.

The casino – The Old Maid – served as a great hub of sorts for all walks of life. The socialites, the degenerates, the admins – anybody who had a few coins to spend. It wasn’t the only casino on the strip, but it was one of the better ones. HBomb ran a good business. It was enticing, addictive, and HBomb, the energetic, outgoing, and friendly man, ran it, of course. He was quite a card and sometimes would wear the Old Maid costume to ham it up and get more wealthy customers to come back to laugh along at the act. Iskall didn’t care much for it, but HBomb made sure to always excuse Iskall from his croupier duties whenever a client appeared. The client would seat themselves at the old chessboard in the dimmest corner of the small dining and bar area in the back of the casino. He sure appreciated HBomb taking over the duties of the nearby bartender, just in case one of the patrons decided they would try to pull a fast one on him during the chess match. Hypixel wasn’t perfectly safe for him anyway.

White Bishop to B5.

Besides that, though, Hypixel was great. Iskall loved it! He was able to put his military training to actual use. The admins – moderators – whatever titles they chose to give themselves, were richer than any individual back in his home dimension could ever dream. Gold, diamonds, and emeralds were in such superfluous quantities that they used them in their buildings, their weapons, and their accessories.

This man was no different. Clearly. Although trying to hide his opulence with a dingy, dark blue cloak, the man was just as rich as the admins. He had a diamond-encrusted ring on every finger, a gold, diamond-encrusted bracelet on each of his wrists, and were those diamonds embedded in his hands?

Black Pawn to A6.

He’d rather not ask. Some of these admins were richer and more narcissistic than he would ever care to know. Full of themselves; they made his skin boil. They used their power over the server to bully the weak, the new, or the gullible people.

White Bishop to C6.

Fortunately, he can’t complain about his situation. He’s made quite a killing off of the work they had him do. He’s made his fortune and will keep making it., so long as these fools are willing to supply him. Being a hunter for anybody and everybody on this server who is willing to pay is practically a given, considering his military training.

Black Pawn takes White Bishop at C6.

He liked the riches – the wealth. He never had much in his home dimension. Here? Here, he was richer than any human back in his home dimension! He was richer than them a hundred times over! Even his chess set – the one he and his soon-to-be customer were using – was made of diamonds and obsidian for the white and black pieces respectively.

White King-side Castles.

Castling. It almost always puts a player in a better position. It was the only move where the King could traverse more than a single square. It protected the King and brought out the Rook. It wasn’t a hard move to acquire for a chess player and was the first fancy move Iskall learned when he was first taught how to play. It was also when he knew to begin speaking.

Black Knight to E7.

“So, who – or what – are you looking to get rid of?”

White Knight takes Black Pawn at E5.

“Not get rid of, get back,” the mystery client spoke, voice squeaking in the upper range of a man’s voice. He sounded like he was still a teen – still a kid. It caught Iskall off guard, to say the least.

Black Queen to D4.

“Look, kid-” Iskall was cut off.

White Queen to H5.

“I’m not a kid,” the man, who evidently just entered adulthood recently, spoke.

Black Pawn to G6.

“Fine, fine. You’re not a kid, but you sure sound like one. Everyone I’ve worked for-” Iskall was cut off again.

White Queen to G5.

“Didn’t have a high voice? Yeah? Well, I’m kind of very upset and I want someone competent to help me fix that,” the young man said, harshly whispering. It was ten at night on a Saturday. Patrons filled the bar. His corner was the only place with open seats during the weekend rush.

Black Bishop to G7.

“Yeah. They didn’t have a high voice. They also didn’t cut me off two times – the first two times – I spoke to them.”

White Knight to D3.

The young man paused for a moment before he moved his Knight. It wasn’t a hesitation about the game. No. He was hesitating about his next choice of words. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m just worried, and I need the best to locate my friend and return him to me. I heard you were the best on the server at finding people.”

Black Pawn to F5.

“Apology accepted. Before we start talking, though, I want to make sure that I’m not actually dealing with a kid. How old are you?”

White Pawn to E5.

Iskall liked being in his thirties for the rest of his existence – at least that’s how the admins told him it worked. Aging practically halted when you came to the ‘Minecraft realms,’ as they called them.

Black Pawn to C5.

There were exceptions, of course. Those exceptions surrounded kids and people in their early twenties. Aging seemed to stop at a humans’ mid-twenties. He met admins – kings – who were hundreds of years old, one who was over a thousand years old. He didn’t need to be working with a kid.

White Pawn to B3.

“Nineteen. I came here about a decade ago. My friend – he found me when I first joined. He made sure I was kept safe – he made sure I knew how to take care of myself. He gave me a home.”

Black Pawn to B6.

The young man seemed kind enough. He wanted his friend back – a friend who loved and cared for him too.

White Bishop to B2.

“So, could you help me?” the young man asked, face now revealed in the dim lantern light of the bar. He was now looking at Iskall instead of the board for the first time since their game began.

Black Queen to G4.

“It depends. I only know that you are looking for your friend. I’m going to need some more details. More specifically, what’s in it for me?” The kid’s eyes shimmered blue. Bright shining blue, just like diamonds. They were like the diamonds on his rings and bracelets. They were bluer than Iskall’s chess pieces. They were as vibrant as the diamonds Iskall could now clearly see in the young man’s golden crown that laid gently on his head.

White Queen to E3.

“A hefty set of diamonds.” The eyes changed color, the shining blue now gone, replaced with a calming brown, just like his own.

Black Knight to D5.

“How many diamonds are we talking about here?” Iskall didn’t mean to come off as rude. He just knew that when admins said an amount that wasn’t an actual number, it was far less than what the mission would be worth. He had his suspicions that this kid was no different.

White Queen to E1.

“Enough to pay for any expenses of finding my friend ten times over. And something I think you would like more than just some measly shiny rocks.”

Black Pawn to F4.

“Oh, really?” Now that piqued his interest. What could be better than diamonds? He, like everyone else on this server, was practically immortal. They could be killed and be brought back to life by the simple mechanics of the realm. The only real punishment that death wrought on its victims was a minor setback compared to the brutal reality of his home dimension.

White Pawn to F3.

“Yes, really,” the young man said, a small smile forming on his lips.

Black Queen to G5.

“Well, out with it, kid!” Iskall practically growled, not enjoying this back and forth game very much. He just wanted to get into whether or not this person, who was practically a child, was worth his time.

White Pawn to C4.

“I’m not a kid,” he said, voice cracking halfway through, betraying his statement. He readjusted his composure. “Your eyesight,” the kid said with a small bit of mirth. “The admins mentioned that it was the one thing you have begged them to get you back, but they said they could not give you what you didn’t have when you entered this dimension. Well, I have a way to get you that vision.”

Black Bishop to F5.

Now the kid had Iskall’s interest. His eyesight? He had lost it defending his homeland from the invasion in his original dimension. The admins here made it very clear that they couldn’t do anything about it. It was a shame, to say the least. But this kid dared to say he could fix it? ‘Sure, some kid – some rich kid – could fix my vision. Sure.’

White Knight takes Black Pawn at C5.

Iskall didn’t speak after the mystery man moved, instead of taking his opponent’s piece.

Black Pawn takes White Knight at C5.

“If you don’t believe me, that’s fine. It’s your loss. You might be the best hunter here, but you’re not the only one. I can raise an army if need be, but why waste my time tracking down dozens of hunters when I can go to one.” The man twirled his pawn in his fingers before taking Iskall’s Knight.

White Pawn takes Black Knight at D5.

Iskall remained silent, so the young man kept speaking. “He is a phenomenal friend of mine. He didn’t just raise me. He helped raise hundreds of people to be the best they could be here at Hypixel. I might have the crown, but he is the real king. I’m a pawn for someone else – a figurehead. He cares for everyone who comes within our borders. He cared for me when I first came here – lonely, terrified. He made sure I was safe. He wasn’t given the title I have because he never liked permanently staying in Hypixel. I wasn’t worried at first because he always kept in touch with me – always made sure I knew where he was so I knew he was safe and he knew I was safe. The longest he has ever gone without talking to me was two days. It’s been two months. Two months of tracking you down. You know as well as I do how hard it is to get information out of the admins. B-” the man cut himself off. 

Iskall realized the young man had tears welling up in his eyes. “My friend,” he said, painfully. “My friend has been gone for two months! He was someone the admins respected – that the people respected. If you don’t believe I can get your sight back – fine! But my friend had heard of you long before he went missing. As a fellow hunter, he was impressed by your skills and said that he was going to protect you like he protected so many others! I-” the young man’s tears started to fall. Iskall lazily moved his piece, as he saw HBomb watching the conversation intently, ready to jump in if needed. Iskall waved his hand, trying to dismiss HBomb’s concern.

Black Bishop to D3.

“Why would I need protecting? I can take care of myself just fine,” Iskall said with a huff. He didn’t like working for children for this very reason. The crying, the hysteria. They’d think it was the end of the world if he didn’t help them. “And what’s this about a ‘fellow hunter?’ I haven’t worked with any other hunters on this server.”

White Knight to C3.

The young man began to lightly laugh as his tears kept falling. “Because the other admins are getting sick of this world and the way it's running. Have you ever thought about how we don’t have to fear death here? They are tired of it and want to change it. They want action. They want drama. They want something that will pass the time. They want blood.”

Black King-side Castles.

Defensive. Iskall needed to be defensive – hold his pieces close. He’s heard rumblings of the growing discontent of the ancient admins, especially since the return of the so-called ‘Original Admin.’ This kid, however, was a first-hand source. Maybe the kid was just trying to get Iskall to cave? If that was the case, it was working. “What do you mean, ‘blood.’ Deaths occur on the daily, so why would they care about more blood?”

White Knight to E4.

“They want to change the world’s mechanics. The admins are bored, they want blood and a couple of them are saying that they have the means to do it. I’ve heard that they want the hunters gone so nobody is strong enough to stop them. If they could garner the power to execute their ideas to their very whims? Well, let’s just say respawn would become a thing of the past in this arena. I hear it’s just the respawn mechanic, not aging, but does that make it any better? We may as well just turn into an anarchy server!” The kid’s eyes looked manic, the blue returning. “My friend was a hunter. He has kept tabs on every hunter in Hypixel just in case he needed other hired help. He was trying to get as many people as possible away from Hypixel. He was going to create a new server before he disappeared. He had the means to make respawn possible there – make it just like this one. I thought he might’ve set the server up and forgot to tell me, so I tried to track him down. He wasn’t there. The admins – they will make these ‘games’ with or without you, but without the people that make it the most entertaining, they won’t be able to get the enjoyment they’d seek. Furthermore, we’d have some of the best fighters in Hypixel to liberate it. We were able to save a few but many haven’t heeded B- my friend’s warnings. My friend said you were one of their next targets. We can give you sanctuary, but he’s the only one who knew where the new world was. Without him, I don’t’ know how to get there.”

Black Queen to F5.

The kid was visibly shaking, trying to keep from crying. Iskall didn’t like dealing with children. He also didn’t like the thought of actually dying worse. From Iskall’s experiences, there were only a few worlds where respawn was actually possible. Any worlds that weren’t run by such a large group of capable people had no way of maintaining the respawn mechanic; the world would revert to hardcore upon entry, dooming all those inside. Sure, age might not get you, but who said anything about surviving that long? He needed his soon-to-be client to calm down so he could get moving forward on what little intel he had going into this mission. “Calm down, take deep breaths now.” Perhaps not the most effective approach, but Iskall didn’t deal with emotions well. It was the best he had. Thankfully, it seemed to do the trick. “Let’s try and figure something out, all right?” Iskall slowly moved his hand away from his piece, not realizing he was still touching it. “How did you exactly try to track him down the first time?” 

White Knight takes Black Pawn at C5.

The young man makes his move and then pulls a compass out of his cloak. “This compass will point to my friend if we are in the same dimension as him. If we are not in the same dimension as him, the dimension that he is in will appear on the side of the compass here.” The young man pointed to the purple glowing assortment of numbers and letters on the compass’s edge. “The problem with it is that, if he isn’t in the same dimension as him, it will take a couple of days for it to give the name of the new dimension he is in. It changes every day or so. I can’t chase him down because he’s not staying in one place, meaning that whatever dimension he is in is always one step ahead of the one I’d arrive in. I’m worried that the admins might have sent somebody after him. The other problem is that the portals to leave this dimension have been down for weeks now. No one can leave and no one can enter with those the way they are. I know it’s the admins’ doing, making their first strides in keeping everyone here, but there has to be a way out, I’m sure of it. Please, I need your help.” 

Black Bishop takes White Rook at F1.

Iskall smirked at his successful capture of the piece. “I think I can help you. I know a guy who can get me out without the main portals. I’m sure your friend knew of a backdoor way to get back. He sure sounds like he would at least. However, I have one more concern. Assuming I can find your friend and we decide to leave Hypixel, how can I be sure that I will be protected wherever it is we end up?” It was a genuine question Iskall had since the young man mentioned it.

White King takes Black Bishop at F1.

The blue in his eyes disappeared and the kid’s confidence made its return, a small smile gracing his features once more. “I can’t say much, but my friend and I are part of an organization as old as the realms and the gods that inhabit it. The organization is weaker than it used to be since a few,” he paused a moment, searching for his words before continuing, “key members went missing some time ago, but one of its members is still strong enough to cover our trail once we leave. I’m just a Pawn – so is my friend. We’re important for where we are placed just like the pawn in the game, and with one wild move, we can be the most powerful piece on the board. However, we are also expendable. I’d love to tell you more once we are in a more secure location, maybe even convince you to join.” The kid’s face lit up for a moment, imagining a different place than the chess match with the hunter. He gave a sheepish grin before letting out an awkward laugh. “We’d have to talk to the Diamond Bishop – sorry, Diamond Knight for that. He’s practically in charge now anyway.” The young man’s speech turned into a murmur, too quiet for Iskall to hear over the brash sounds of the tavern. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble. It’s just something that isn’t this server, you know? I enjoy that group.”

Black Rook to D8.

‘Diamond Bishop? Diamond Knight? Something about him being a Pawn?’ Iskall laughed to himself. “Okay, young man. I don’t understand what it is you are talking about, but I don’t really care. It seems like they wouldn’t be much help in their current state, but if you need someone new, well I guess we can discuss those terms after I locate your friend.”

White Queen to E4.

The game was reaching its climax – not its end – but Iskall was no fool. He could see that he was about to be set in a most unfavorable position. The young man pulled out another item from his cloak. It was a pawn – a diamond pawn. No, not the kind of shiny, blue rocks that Iskall’s chess pieces were made from – not that kind of diamond. This pawn was made out of the same kind of clear, crystalline, white diamond that he saw from his home dimension. Honest to goodness diamond. “This is a symbol my friend gave me when I joined. Out of all of my possessions, this one means the most to me.” He put the item in front of Iskall.

Black Rook to E8.

“So what?” Iskall said, slightly irritated, slightly confused. He had practically agreed to the finding the boy’s friend. ‘Why is he still trying to convince me to take the job?’

White Pawn to D4.

“I trust that you will bring him back to me and if I can’t get your eyesight back – which I can and will – then you can keep my most prized possession.”

Black Queen takes White Queen at E4.

This for that. A queen for a queen. A prized possession for something Iskall believed he’d never have again.

White Pawn takes Black Queen at E4.

An impenetrable cube of four pawns in the center of the board. Iskall flipped the chessboard, the pieces on it sent flying, many of the patrons too drunk to care, but HBomb watching intently for any sign of action. “I forfeit the game and accept your deal.” Iskall held out his hand. “So, who am I trying to find, exactly?”

With a victorious grin plastered on his face, the young man firmly grabbed Iskall’s hand and shook it. “My friend’s name is Bad, BadBoyHalo, and you can call me Skeppy.”

Mumbo was an enigma to Iskall at times. Mumbo was the smartest person Iskall had ever met and yet was the person who doubted more in his abilities than anyone else. He had a passion to him – a drive – that Iskall saw in all of his friends, but Mumbo’s was different. Where Grian, Scar, or Bdubs would need a break from building to keep their creativity alive, Mumbo’s ingenuity would come from late hours of building. Where Stress or Joe or TFC would feel overwhelmed by the sheer grandeur of the Hermits’ creations, Mumbo would create another machine, big or small, simply to have it exist. Where False, Doc, or Wels fight out their emotions when life did not go their way, Mumbo smiles and keeps building.

Mumbo told Iskall once about the desert land with the never-setting red sun back in the fifth season. Iskall often thinks Mumbo may have never actually left that place.

That nagging feeling always returns whenever he sees Mumbo’s eyes turn red. No, it is not the whites surrounding the iris, but rather the thin border between Mumbo’s black pupils and his nearly as black irises. Iskall always thought it was just a trick of the light, the red hues just reflections of the redstone that was always present.

Now there was no redstone.

As soon as it appeared, it vanished, almost as if Iskall had just been hallucinating. But Iskall knew what he saw. Iskall knew Mumbo was an enigma; most of the Hermits were, but most of the Hermits had reasons for doing what they did, for acting the way they did. Mumbo had no such luxury, at least any none that the Hermits knew about. Mumbo stuck to his guns about where he came from – a creative world where he was free to build redstone contraptions for all eternity.

Iskall had a backstory to his life, most of it, at least. He told snippets to the Hermits, but certain events even he didn’t quite remember. Stress once mentioned mental blocks that hinder memories associated with traumatic events, just like the event of his restored vision. He prayed Mumbo was not plagued by such stressful events.

“We want them gone too, Mumbo,” Doc spoke, shaking Iskall out of his reverie, “and the best way to do that is to gather ourselves and get back that time machine.” Doc raised his fist near his chest, a mischievous grin. “We’re three of the strongest, smartest, and most tactical people on this server. No one – and I mean no one – is going to stand in our way of getting to that time machine and saving our friends! Not Cub, not Scar, and not Grian! We’ve survived this long, so let’s keep surviving and gear ourselves up!”

“Well, I have some things around here that might suit us, but I also grabbed this,” Mumbo expressed, a smile now gracing his features, setting a red shulker box in front of the trio. “Who knows? Maybe some explosives can be used as a great distraction.”

Doc began to laugh, a deep throaty laugh that distinguished Doc from every other Hermit. “Mumbo, Mumbo. Always full of surprises. I’d say this is a good start. Most of my materials are located on Area 77, so they may be hard to get to until we are ready to enter.”

“I have more than enough sets of diamond armor at my old ice base if we’d want to resituate our gear. We can also head to my mushroom island base for other materials if we need them, but that may be a long journey.” Iskall had more than enough weapons to supply their small force. They just had to get ahold of it.

“That’s good. Some armor and new tools will be a strong benefit against them.” Doc closed his eyes and rubbed his chin in thought. “We may need more materials to bring back with us to the past, just in case we end up somewhere where resources aren’t as plentiful, like the Hippies did before, ending up before we entered this world.”

Mumbo blanched, worry etched into his features about the possibility of failure. “We’ll need shulker boxes, right?”

“Yes, shulkers of items would be beneficial,” Doc replied.

Iskall interjected, realizing the problem, “I think Mumbo and I used all of our shulker boxes on Sahara.” Mumbo shook his head in affirmation. “Doc yours are still at Area 77, right?”

“Yes,” Doc frowned.

“Mumbo and I could take a trip into the End to try and retrieve some more shulkers if you can start getting materials ready back here. We will need armor to fight the shulkers anyway, so we can stop at my base and you can prepare there until we return.”

“I like that idea, although are we sure there aren’t any bases here that we could pillage for shulker boxes? I’m sure Grian’s base has tons laying around,” Doc replied.

Mumbo looked up, the red returning. Iskall stared at it, missing what Mumbo had said in favor of focusing on the enticing red that appeared in Mumbo’s eyes.

“Iskall? You okay, buddy?” Mumbo asked, Iskall blinking back out of his daze.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry, the adrenaline from this excitement must just be wearing off. What was it you said again, Mumbo?”

“I said that they know that we’re out here, and probably know that we are trying to mount a counter to them. They know that we know, Iskall. Going to the End might be risky, but it’s a move they won’t suspect. If we are flying around bases, we are sure to get spotted and overwhelmed. I just wanted to make sure you’re up for it, but maybe we should hold off until tomorrow morning? You kind of spaced out on us there.” Mumbo chuckled, the red growing to nearly the entirety of Mumbo’s irises. “Space, get it?” Mumbo dryly laughed before he paused, noticing he and Doc were not laughing along. The red started to fade. “Sorry, I guess I’m also in need of some sleep. I guess my dream last night was a bit more vivid than I counted for. Maybe we do need some sleep?” The red was now gone entirely again.

Iskall knew Mumbo didn’t get sleep much. ‘Mumbo’s exhaustion must finally be catching up to him, to have mixed up dreams and reality like that,’ Iskall thought.

“You were working over Iskall’s eye all day today, Mumbo,” Doc stated. “Working on that little thing for so long can be exhausting. It would be wise to wait until morning to leave, anyway. We need to be at our best, so we can spend one more night here.”

The trio continued talking and planning routes for the morning for half an hour, deciding to leave before dawn to keep the cover of night, before heading off to sleep. Iskall would learn that night that maybe Mumbo wasn’t the only one with all too realistic dreams plaguing his otherwise peaceful slumber.

The morning sun rose high over the horizon as the dog approached the man sitting under the tree, the book still in his mouth. Just as his master instructed, he had located one of them – his master’s friend.

The man looked up as the dog approached, his helmet and sword sitting at his side as he appeared to be taking a short rest near the river. “Hey there, little guy. What do you have there?” The dog set the book on the ground before the man, curling up to rest next to him.

The man fiddled with the dog’s collar before letting out a small gasp. “You’re one of Joe’s dogs, aren’t ya,” the man muttered. The dog let out a whine at the mention of his owner’s name as he laid his head back down on the grass.

The man began to read through the book, his face contorting in worry with each turn of the page. He stood up, putting on his helmet and grabbing his sword. “Come on, little buddy. Let’s get you some food; I’m sure you’re hungry!” The man tried to encourage as the dog shakily got on its feet.

The man spoke again, quieter this time, “I’m sure the others are gonna want to see this.” He frowned as he began to walk.

This man wasn’t like the others. He was still full of life. The man had feathers in his helmet and a song in his step. The dog felt he could trust him.

Chapter Text

Chapter XIV -  I Don’t Wanna Know That You’re Falling

Skeppy gave Iskall the Diamond pawn and the compass that tracked Bad’s location before he left. He thanked Iskall profusely and promised Iskall they would see each other again soon to hammer out the details of regaining Iskall’s sight. Iskall found it more likely than not that he wouldn’t.

A quick inventory check and a nod to HBomb on his way out confirmed that Iskall had what he needed for his mission. It wasn’t his best gear, but it would do. He had a diamond sword with Sharpness V, a basic set of diamond armor, an infinity bow with a Power V enchantment, some steak, and a handful of other miscellaneous gear for survival. He was sure it would be enough. If he needed anything else, he’d just gather it in whatever world he landed in. 

It had been a few years since Iskall had to leave the Hypixel server. His clients never really had a reason for him to go, with most of their requests concerning server members rather than members outside of it. Hypixel housed half a billion people just in its core spawn area alone, the distance of roughly the first three hundred kilometers from the central portal. Due to this, the admins created a second world called the Hub. It is used as the spawn-in point that anybody in Hypixel has to use if they want to enter or exit Hypixel. People can use the Hub’s waypoints to access many of the popular areas of the core spawn, or they can use those points to venture further into the world and start their own settlements. He had been to a few of the outposts, and although some were very well-built, they paled in comparison to the core spawn of Hypixel. Iskall doubted he would ever see anything as grand as it.

If Skeppy was to be believed, however, then the waypoints to the Hub were inaccessible. Iskall just hoped that the malicious intent of the admins that Skeppy was so in hysterics about was incorrectly interpreted. He would have to find a back door to breakthrough whatever block the admins put on the waypoints. Iskall had just the man in mind.

Quackity was a con artist - a cheat - and had an arrest warrant hanging over his head since he first entered Hypixel. He shouldn’t be here. He’s unwanted on the most stable, orderly, and populous server in the realms. After all, he’s a Glitch. 

Glitches occurred when an individual came to the realms from their original world just as they were dying. They weren’t necessarily uncommon, nor were they malevolent by default. They just provided unforeseen problems for admins who, without the proper patience or understanding of a world’s mechanics, could end up causing server crashes and unwanted fatalities. Some Glitches possessed abilities that threatened the order the Hypixel admins created and perpetuated. The most destructive of these abilities the Glitch could have is shifting into what the admins called ‘creative,’ where the Glitch could summon any item or weapon and was practically impervious to damage. 

One admin had Iskall hunt to kill Quackity some years ago when Quackity first joined, but upon finding Quackity, Iskall chose not to follow through on the bounty. Quackity only possessed one Glitch ability: the power to create an entrance into and out of any realm, locked or otherwise. Sometimes Glitches had facial glitches that acted up and caused issues with blending in, but that wasn’t really a problem for the admins. It made sense now to Iskall why that particular admin had a hit on Quackity the moment he joined; the admins wanted to ensure no one could leave. Thankfully, Iskall didn’t follow through with it because he now had a use for Quackity. He could repay Iskall for having spared him by getting Iskall out of Hypixel and properly tracking which dimension this Bad was in, rather than trying to predict where its delayed response would point. Quackity could use whatever machinations were from the compass to pinpoint Bad’s latest location instead of its shown output and direct the portal to that dimension.

Iskall knew he could find Quackity somewhere along the gambling strip, swindling some poor sucker out of their wealth. After an hour of searching, Iskall found Quackity on the street in front of a different casino. Five wooden bowls were laid in front of him on a makeshift table. Quackity loved to play games where he could hide miniature portals to trick his ‘customers,’ Iskall more than once on the losing end of such charades. For all the man’s antics, Quackity was surprisingly cunning, and if he hadn’t been a glitch, he could probably run one of the casinos on the strip better than HBomb. Hell, he could own all the casinos on the strip by the end of the century if he were given a chance. Unfortunately for Quackity, it would put an even bigger target on his head if he did run such a thriving place.

Iskall entered the small crowd gathered around Quackity’s table. “Aww, too bad!” Quackity exclaimed. “The ball was actually under this bowl.” True to his word, when he lifted the wooden cup left of the one chosen by the participant, there was an iron ball underneath.

“What a waste of my time,” the losing man said, leaving in a huff.

“So, who’s next?” Quackity exclaimed, eying up the crowd. “It’s only one diamond to play!” 

Iskall forcefully pushed his way to the front of the gathering crowd. “I’d rather like to have a word with our fine street dealer here,” Iskall growls, taking a dagger and stabbing it into the makeshift table. 

Quackity let out a small shout, staring at the dagger before looking up to Iskall. The tension drained from Quackity’s shoulders, and a small relief-filled smile graced his lips. “Alright, alright, sheesh!” Quackity exclaims, followed by fake nervous laughter. “Everybody clear out! I’m closing up for the day! Thank you all for your gratuitous patronage to my humble establishment.” When some people chose to linger, Quackity glares at them and shouts, “Come on! Scram!”

The crowd cleared moments later as Quackity began dismantling his table. “So, what exactly is it you wanted to talk to me about, Iskall? You know I’m not a big fan of you scaring off my customers.”

Iskall knew. He just particularly didn’t care. Quackity needed an out anyway. Large crowds with their attention rapt on his tricks could lead to Quackity being found out. A group wasn’t safe for the glitch’s business. “Can’t a friend scare away another friend’s overbearing crowd?” Iskall said with an airy laugh.

Quackity sighed. “Cut the crap, Iskall. We haven’t met since HBomb had you chase me away from the roulette table at his casino over a year ago. We didn’t exactly part ways on good terms.”

Iskall let out a nervous chuckle. “Yes, I guess you’re right.” He laughed again. “I do have a request for you. I’m tracking somebody-“

“When are you not?” Quackity interjected with a raised eyebrow.

“True, true. However, this person is not in Hypixel. So-“

Quackity cut him off again. “So you want me to break you into a whitelisted server. All right. I can do that. Yeah, just give me a second.” Quackity annunciated the last word with a grunt as he moved the stones he used as the table’s base into his inventory.

Iskall released a frustrated sigh. “Well, you’re not too far off the mark there, Quackity, but it would save us time if you let me finish.”

“Go on then.” Quackity gave a small wave of his hand, clearly still irritated by Iskall’s intrusion.

Iskall pulled out the compass Skeppy gave him and handed it to Quackity. “I’m on a reconnaissance mission. The individual in question is suspected of running from Hypixel’s authorities as he has been server hopping almost daily for the last couple of months. Either his communicator is broken or lost because my customer lost contact with him around his initial departure. The problem with finding this individual, of course, is-“

Quackity cut Iskall off again. “Is that it’s a few servers behind the individual’s current position,” Quackity finished with a knowing smirk as he fiddled away with the wiring inside the now slightly dismantled compass. Quackity had a small screwdriver in his other hand that he must have pulled from his pocket or a portal.

Iskall rolled his eyes. “You are correct, yet again. Considering the look on your face, I’m assuming you have a solution, don’t you?”

“I do, Iskall! For the right price, of course.” There was that smug grin Iskall remembered, full of mischief, a look that Iskall knew graced Quackity with the ability to swindle the common folk of Hypixel. It’s the look Quackity gave that made him his money. He wasn’t a businessman like the tycoons of Hypixel. He would probably never get that life being a Glitch. But he was rich all the same; he could suck an opportunity dry before the customer was none the wiser. “Everything has a price, Iskall. The question is, how much are you willing to pay me to get you there.”

Iskall wasn’t stupid. He knew Quackity would want payment in something other than riches because Quackity, although a Glitch, was a rich man, having made quite a living off of scamming Hypixel residents. Quackity wanted something less superficial, perhaps a favor or information. ‘Now that’s a thought.’ Iskall could spare some info that could grant Quackity’s safety. After all, insider information had practically been dropped in his lap at his last rendezvous. Yes, Iskall could share a nugget of information. 

“Information,” Iskall replied gruffly. “Information that may end up saving your life.”

The smug smirk fell from Quackity’s face before the façade was replaced once more, now donning a nervous smile. Quackity let out a nervous chuckle. “What do you mean by that, Iskall? I-“Quackity anxiously looked over his shoulder before continuing in a hushed voice. “I don’t have anybody after me again, do I?” 

Now it was Iskall wearing the smirk. “No, no, Quackity. Not yet, at least. Although, if my suspicions are correct, it could lead to that end. So, this information could give you quite the step up at avoiding a mess.”  

Quackity gripped the compass in his hands, staring at it with frightened eyes. He bit his lip as he ran his thumb over the glowing symbols on the compass. Iskall knew Quackity was concerned. Quackity wasn’t a strong person. He was shorter than Iskall, had a thinner build, and had none of the training Iskall possessed. Sure, Quackity had an otherwise forgettable face, so long as the Glitch didn’t have a form glitch that caused his face to dramatically change to a rough pixelization of a smiley face. But from what Iskall understood, that was few and far between. No, what Quackity lacked in stature and raw power, he possessed in his cunning tongue. Quackity could probably out-talk anybody and maneuver the situation to his benefit. That was what happened with his first run-in with Iskall, at least. 

However, if Iskall was reading the information laid before him correctly, Quackity would not even get the chance to talk his way out of the situation before he was crushed. “Yeah,” Quackity meekly spoke. “Yeah, that sounds like a deal. I can get you to the realm your guy just entered. He just jumped there maybe half an hour ago, so you should be able to catch up to him in no time.” Quackity’s confidence appeared to have made its return. “And, you know, because we’re entering through a backdoor, you should be able to keep your items and not have to worry about dirtying your hands recollecting resources. 

Iskall smiled and reached out his hand. “Deal?”

Quackity returned the smile and took Iskall’s rougher hand and gave it a firm shake. “Deal.”

Quackity pulled Iskall in the direction of the alleyway behind them, between a couple of the casinos. Once they were out of view of the crowds, Quackity released Iskall’s hand and extended his pointer finger outward as he spun his arm in a large circle. When the circle was complete, a glowing white line appeared where his finger had passed that quickly filled with the same blinding white glow before that same light transformed into what seemed to be a mountaintop in the heart of a savannah. 

Quackity entered first, and Iskall quickly followed. Quackity pointed to the compass needle, no longer spinning aimlessly but now pointing to their right. “He should be that way. Now, as for that information, Iskall?” Quackity held the compass behind his back, out of Iskall’s reach. 

“The Hypixel admins are closing the portals in and out of the server indefinitely. Apparently, they are pushing through new rules that are going to make Hypixel a living nightmare. From what I understand, they want blood and lots of it. They want to end the respawn mechanic, making it possible to die permanently there too. It’s been kept under wraps to not cause a mass evacuation of the server, but I think my sources are decently trustworthy. They have been able to close the waypoints as far as the edges of the core spawn areas. If they get to the outer settlement’s waypoints and close them, there will be no escape, and their bloodbath can begin. You’d have a target on your back because of your special ability. I’d bet you would be captured and killed off within the year.”

Quackity’s shoulders slacked, and his face fell before he let out a pitiful laugh, a laugh Iskall heard many of his quarries let out when they ran out of options. “I guess I’m going to need to find a new home, huh?” Quackity let out another sad laugh. “I finally felt safe, like I fit in somewhere and mattered, and of course, some megalomaniacs with too much time and power on their hands take it away. I just can’t catch a break.” Quackity shook his head and handed the compass back to Iskall. “Thanks, Iskall. I’m glad you stopped by. With any luck, we’ll meet again elsewhere. Maybe we’ll even be friends there.”

Before Iskall even got a word in edgewise, Quackity had already opened another portal and jumped through. Now Iskall was all alone.

All alone.

Friends? Iskall never had time for friends. Not in his line of work, at least. HBomb was a great associate – a magnificent boss – but they never really did anything friends did. Iskall didn’t know anything about him past his casino business. Iskall hadn’t even contacted Quackity in over a year. They were about all the people Iskall even knew by name besides the clients that paid him. Those people were just that, though. They were clients, not friends.

Iskall let out a huff. He didn’t need friends. Iskall didn’t have time for such trivial things. Maybe he’d choose not to return to Hypixel after he retrieved Bad and just go to another server that had a respawn still and actually make friends. Probably not, but it was a nice thought. 

Iskall felt a light breeze brush him out of his thoughts. “Right. I should probably catch up before they get too far away,” Iskall said to no one but the grass surrounding him. He jumped off the cliff and landed before he started running in the direction the compass pointed, putting on his armor and pulling out his weapon along the way.

Iskall would do anything for his friends.

He lived by that motto, day in and day out. He would offer his time, talent, and treasure to anyone who asked, and sometimes he would freely give each without his friends ever requesting his aid. He spent countless hours talking about life and all it had to offer with Stress. He built Sahara from the ground up with Mumbo and Grian. He frequently funded various charitable events within the server. Iskall learned what it was like to feel alone, and he never wanted that creeping loneliness to permeate his being – nor anyone else’s being – ever again. If that meant expressing that extra effort to ensure that his friends knew he loved them with his whole being, then so be it. No cost was too great for his friends.

That’s why he was with Mumbo on this expedition to the End, of course. His friends needed him. Mumbo and Doc needed his help. All of his friends needed his help. They all needed each other. That’s what friends were for, after all. Friends were a shoulder to lean on, a hand outstretched to uplift the fallen, a sword and shield in hand, ready to sacrifice it all. 

Iskall remembered that last meeting he had with Quackity. He remembered the look of distress on his face and the sadness that seeped from his voice. He failed to ponder it in the heat of the moment, but Iskall had many years to mull it over. Iskall regretted it. He regretted not having reached out to Quackity before their final encounter. He regretted not stopping Quackity from leaving. He regretted deleting Quackity’s contact in his communicator shortly after that. He lamented many of the mistakes he made with people he should have supported, should have extended his hand, should have grabbed his sword and shield to help when they clearly would have done all that and more for him. Iskall would never make those same mistakes again. 

He found his friends – his family – and he intended to keep them safe. If only that horrid game had not gotten so out of hand. If only he had kept in contact with his friends here, he would have noticed sooner that something was terribly wrong. If only – 

“Hey, Iskall. Do you remember the first time you and I met? Like, actually met, Iskall? When we spent that night discussing RS-NOR latches so that your head game would run properly?” Mumbo interrupted Iskall’s line of thought. Mumbo always could tell when Iskall got too much in his head, and he appreciated Mumbo for distracting him from it.

“Yes, I remember it. It was my first world with you guys, after all. That was the one where we all built in the giant mesa biome, right?” Iskall smiled. He loved that place. He gained many more friends and grew closer with the ones that he came to Hermitcraft alongside.

“That’s the one. I knew that night that we would become great friends because you actually wanted to talk about Redstone with me. You didn’t shy away from what I knew about Redstone but rather showed just as much enthusiasm for it as I did. No one else, besides maybe Doc and Etho, knew about anything I was talking about, and even then, they would either zone out or bulldoze over the conversation. You were the first person to conversate with me about redstone. I just wanted to thank you for that, Iskall.” The genuineness in Mumbo’s voice was apparent. 

“No problem, buddy.” Iskall had learned quite a lot of Redstone specifics when working in The Old Maid with HBomb, even though it paled in comparison to the mastery that Mumbo had over the material. Iskall preferred the randomization that could be accomplished with Redstone circuits in the machines at The Old Maid and could repair most of the devices if they broke down. Iskall preferred being a croupier, of course, but fixing the slot machines never hurt, especially when he would get a small bonus from HBomb’s cost-saving. 

The nether was a dangerous place, even more so because of the traps all of the Hermits placed around it to try and ensure their own victory; it was practically a minefield by this point. They used Jevin’s portal to get through the nether, believing it not to be trapped since it was further away from the main areas of the server. Jevin had been one of the first to lose in Demise, and the portal was the closest accessible portal to Mumbo’s bunker base. They were right and could cross into the nether dimension for quicker access to the end portal.

“So, Doc said we needed how many shulker shells again?” Mumbo asked him as they continued down the branch, away from the nether hub. 

“One hundred and eighty of them,” he said, fiddling with his sword. “We will need thirty more shulker boxes each to try and store the various materials Doc wants to bring to his lab and then to the past.” Doc had been apprehensive about setting up base in Area 77 when they could be roaming nearby, fancying a chance at killing one of the three. So, they could not use any shulker boxes Doc had laying around Area 77 and instead use materials from the various farms on the server.

Mumbo let out a groan. “That is still so many, though!”

“Well, he did spend the last three days calculating the materials we would need to bring over so we could hold our own in the past. He did mention that he wants to land sometime around the Civil War. Remember how high tensions were around then? What will the other Hermits think if three duplicates of themselves appear spouting nonsense about a horrid future?” Iskall lowered his voice and tried to imitate the creeper’s accent. “We have to be prepared for the worst, just in case we need to subdue both sides of the Civil War to reunite the server.” 

Mumbo let out a laugh. “That’s right! Gosh, I guess I forgot how dangerous it got around then. Even Xisuma was on edge during it!”

Iskall remembered that distress. He couldn’t really give Xisuma the best help considering Xisuma couldn’t trust him with anything due to the ongoing conflict. He recalled X approaching him afterward, explaining the situation and needlessly apologizing for not coming to each Hermit sooner. “Well, that was because Biffa disappeared around that time too. He had been worried about another jungle disaster like in the last world. But remember, he said he noticed in the admin logs that Biffa exited the server to go elsewhere. He said that he must’ve forgotten to say goodbye to everyone before he left. Something about him being a robot and being able to access the server’s backdoors.”

“Oh, I remember that! Didn’t he say something about two new players arriving, but X was unable to identify them because their code was all jumbled?”

“Yeah, it was that conversation. Thankfully, it ended up being Keralis and Bdubs, just not correctly entering the server. Something about admin mishaps.” Iskall remembered Xisuma spending endless nights trying to figure out where the two new players were, only for one of them to literally fall from the sky as a returner. Xisuma mentioned space-time distortion, which led to Keralis literally walking over from Xisuma’s second world to their present one. Bdubs’s situation, well, he always seemed to divert the conversation away from it. Eventually, the Hermits – including Iskall – quit trying to pry. Iskall would do anything for his friends, but if they were unwilling to bring to light their problems, there was only so much he could do to help them. Maybe that’s why he had struggled with life before the Hermits. He never really opened up to anyone before them.

“Goodness, I remember that whole mess.” Mumbo pinched the bridge of his nose before looking above them. “It was great that Bdubs returned safely. I just wish Etho and Beef would have shown up too.”

Iskall nodded his head. “Yeah, it was just awful though when Bdubs didn’t remember or recognize Doc – or anyone except Joe, X, and Keralis for that matter,” Iskall remembered. It hurt to see his friends in such distress. The meeting between Doc and Bdubs happened shortly before the beginning of Demise. That was the last time Iskall had seen Doc before Doc appeared at Sahara only a few nights prior.

“Oh yeah. That – that wasn’t a good time. Doc finally thought he was no longer alone – that he would finally have someone from the nHo back to share in his mourning. It was really awkward trying to explain to Bdubs how the whole jungle fiasco forced us to move worlds early when he didn’t even know who we were in the first place.”

“But if we hadn’t left, whatever was corrupting the jungle would have eventually got the rest of us too. I know we tried to warn the others, but I was lucky enough to get Doc out of there before it took him too.” He hated that jungle for having tormented his friend while taking three away from him before he could stop it.

For the last week, the jungle was in a perpetual veil of darkness, making locating Doc difficult, but Iskall could use his diamond eye to see better. “Doc! There you are! We have to-” Iskall had just landed into a small clearing in the overgrown jungle where the nHo resided, his elytra flaring outwards to slow his momentum.

“I can’t, Iskall! I have to find them! I can hear their voices. I’m so close, Iskall! They are just a bit further in!” Doc’s clothes were ragged, his eyes manic and unfocused. He attempted to run back into the thick jungle overgrowth before Iskall grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Doc! They’re gone! They. Are. Gone! X can’t even find their code in the admin logs anymore. Something is wrong with this world. The rest of the Hermits are leaving. I am leaving! You are leaving, Doc!” Iskall grabbed Doc’s other shoulder with his free hand, staring into Doc’s eyes.

“But Iskall! They are my friends! I can’t just leave them here in this jungle when I’m so close! I know I can find them, Iskall! My friends need me!” Doc pleaded with Iskall, tears flowing down the ruddied pattern that already marred Doc’s face.

“You’re right, Doc! Your friends do need you! I need you, Doc! I’m your friend, Doc, and so is every other Hermit here. We all need you, Doc. And right now, that means we need you to give up on them. They’re gone, but we’re not, and we love you too.” Iskall gave a small smile. He would do anything for his friends, so he knew Doc’s pain in giving up on them. Iskall knew he never could. After all, that is what led him to search the jungle one final time for the members of the nHo when Xisuma had requested all the Hermits to gather in the underground shopping hub of the community area before leaving for the next world.

“I – I – but, I – I have to – I –” Doc halted his stuttering as he looked at something behind Iskall. Doc’s eyes widened as his face fell. “That wasn’t Etho.”

“Yeah, buddy. It was just your imagination. We can –” Iskall was cut off again.

“That’s not Etho.” Iskall hadn’t noticed that Doc already had his elytra on. Doc lifted Iskall with one arm, throwing Iskall over his shoulder before firing three rockets in quick succession. As they flew off, Iskall got a decent look at what had Doc so frightened, and it terrified him. There, mere feet away from where Iskall had been standing, was a being clouded in a dark aura with two glowing purple eyes. At first glance, Iskall thought it was a shorter enderman before the realization hit him that the shadowy being standing in the clearing looked nearly identical to Etho had it not been for the glowing purple eyes and its hazy aura. The being showed its teeth, sharp and jagged, brilliant white with the same intensity as its eyes.

“Etho?” Iskall muttered.

“Not Etho. Look at the jungle,” Doc said as he flew higher, releasing another rocket. Iskall took his eyes away from the being that looked like Etho before scanning the rest of the jungle. The jungle was alight with pairs of similar glowing purple dots.

“Iskall? Earth to Iskall. Are you there, buddy?” Mumbo was lightly shaking Iskall, a red tint reflecting off of Mumbo’s eyes, worry etched in his face, the nether portal to the end room behind him.

“Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about the jungle from the last world, you know, the one that took Bdubs, Etho, and Beef. I –” Iskall paused, taking a slow breath. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I would do anything for you guys, and I wish I could’ve helped Doc back then against them, back when –” Iskall stopped speaking.

Mumbo’s shoulders fell. “Back when what, Iskall? You, you always said you just grabbed Doc and left.” Mumbo paused for a moment, looking down in thought. “Iskall, what happened in the jungle that day?” 

The expression on Mumbo’s face looked foreign. It looked like a horrid mix of confusion and betrayal, as if Iskall’s omission of one of the most frightening days of his life from Mumbo was akin to their relationship being built on nothing more than a pillar of salt. “Mumbo,” Iskall started. “I never told anyone because it was – it was awful Mumbo. Doc and I, we almost died there, and it quite frankly terrified me.” Iskall’s voice wasn’t quite a yell or a shout, but it was still louder than his normal speaking voice. Iskall continued to focus on Mumbo’s eyes, which glazed over, pupils redder than they should be in the light. ‘A discussion for another day,’ Iskall thought to himself.

“You almost died?!” Mumbo shrieked, now looking at Iskall before grabbing him into a rough hug. “You almost died in that jungle, and I couldn’t have helped you.”

“Mumbo,” Iskall said, returning the embrace. “I would do anything for my friends. You are my family. If it meant dying for one of you, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

Mumbo took a few shaky breaths, squeezing Iskall tighter. “Please don’t. I don’t think I’d be able to go on if I lost another friend. I’ve lost too many.” 

“Don’t worry, buddy, not for a long time.” They stayed like that for a few more minutes, holding each other as if the other may fall if they let go.

“What was it in the jungle that would’ve killed you and Doc had you not escaped,” Mumbo finally said, breaking the silence.

“It reminded me of what our friends are now. There was only one near us, but it was only feet away before Doc noticed it. Mumbo, it looked so much like Etho, but you have to believe me when I say it wasn’t him. When we were in the sky, there were so many pairs of glowing purple dots that I was surprised Doc had survived as long as he had in the jungle.” Iskall’s breathing quickened before he calmed himself down once more.

“Pairs of glowing purple dots?” Mumbo asked, confused.

“Eyes, Mumbo. It was the being’s eyes that glowed purple, and there was an innumerable amount of them littering the jungle.”

Mumbo took a moment to digest the information before speaking again. “Do you think they have anything to do with the current versions of our friends?”

Iskall grimaced. He knew that if that were true, then there was no chance of running like there had been last time. Doc’s time machine scheme would have to work for them to escape; they wouldn’t be able to simply jump to a new world to escape the problem like they had the last time. After all, Xisuma was one of the first gone, and he was the only one proficient enough with the admin controls to jump worlds. “I’m afraid that they may be connected because if that is the case, Mumbo, then Doc’s plan cannot fail. No matter what, at least one of us has to make it back. To do that, though, we will have to go get those shulker boxes Doc wanted.” 

“You’re right. Let’s get to it then!” Mumbo cracked a smile as they parted from their embrace. 

The two walked through the nether portal into the end portal room. 

“Hey Iskall,” Mumbo started. “Thanks for telling me. I know it wasn’t easy to discuss, and I appreciate it.”

“For you, my friend, anything,” Iskall replied as they went up the steps towards the end portal. “After you, Mumbo,” he said as he held an open palm towards the end portal.

Mumbo let out a light laugh, holding an open palm towards the portal as well. “No, no, Iskall. I must insist, after you.” 

“Then let’s go together, Mumbo.” Iskall grabbed Mumbo’s wrist as the two tumbled into the end portal.

When the pair appeared on the other side of the portal, Iskall heard a click and then a multitude of terrifying distinct hisses releasing at once. 

Iskall didn’t hesitate. He pushed Mumbo as hard as he could off the platform, over the already lit TNT towards the end island. All Iskall could see was Mumbo’s mortified face and his glowing red pupils before the pain started and became unbearable, but he would bear it for them like they had born so much more for him before.

After all, Iskall would do anything for his friends.

iskall85 blew up

Chapter Text

Chapter XV – I Don’t Wanna Watch You Slip Away

Iskall should have known that this was going to be a bad idea. He entered through Quackity’s portal around sunset and made it down to the mountain’s base, where a village lay. Mobs would begin to appear at nightfall, and Iskall was more than prepared to fight them off and continue his mission. However, the last thing he needed was a rogue creeper blowing him up and forcing him to start over when he already had diamond armor. No, he could wait out the night in the village.

His mistake came when he was barricading the villagers in their homes. He didn’t want them hurting themselves as mobs surrounded the village. The iron golem was busy distracting a small horde of zombies while Iskall herded the last of the villagers into a building when he heard the twang of a bowstring. He expected to feel the sharp sting of an arrow piercing his body, but it never came. Instead, he felt a hard thud against his thigh as the sound of breaking glass filled the air.

Iskall quickly rolled out of the way, kicking up dust in his maneuver before propelling himself towards the skeleton that shot at him. Before the mob could notch its next arrow on its bowstring, Iskall’s sword already slashed through its figure, sending its bones flying which, upon landing, soon turned to dust. Iskall reached down at his hip to see what the arrow had hit before realization hit him. The brick of a communicator located in his pocket had an arrow lodged in it.

He let out an exasperated groan. “Oh, come on! That derp had to hit my communicator! I kind of need that in case I can’t get Bad back! I thought these things were supposed to be invincible.” Iskall let out another groan. “Well, at least it wasn’t the compass.” He reached in his other pocket and pulled out the compass, which was now pointing in a slightly different direction than before nightfall.

‘Negligible,’ Iskall thought to himself. ‘Must just be the compass readjusting its position.’ Iskall decided to board himself up in one of the empty villager houses and sleep for the night. He always believed that it was essential to be well-rested to fight well. That motto has yet to end him, so he chose to continue to abide by it.

Iskall woke when the sun was cresting over the horizon. That was also the moment he realized his second mistake. The assortment of symbols on the compass’s side glowed in the colors that corresponded with each dimension concerning Bad’s location. When Iskall was first with Skeppy, the symbols glowed purple, indicating Bad was in an End dimension in whichever world he had been. When Iskall arrived the prior evening, the symbols glowed a light blue, indicating Bad was in the Overworld. Now the symbols were glowing red, indicating that Bad was in the Nether.

“Well, that’s not good. Bad must’ve gotten a head start on me this morning,” Iskall spoke to himself. “Although perhaps this could be a blessing in disguise.” The compass pointed towards Bad’s last known location in the Overworld, which would be the nether portal he used to access the Nether. The compass would update itself if Bad exited through another portal or if Iskall went into the Nether himself.

The Nether allowed for faster travel than the Overworld by compressing the distance traveled at a ratio of eight blocks to one. Iskall would make up lost ground by simply entering the Nether and pursuing the people chasing Bad.

Iskall quickly mined some stone and iron in one of the cliff faces and smelted it down in the blacksmith’s furnace. Once Iskall smelted the iron, he turned it into a bucket. He grabbed some water from the trench near the wheat before heading off towards the direction where the compass pointed. Within minutes of traveling from the desert to a nearby savannah, he located a lava pit. He dug a shallow hole, placed the water source on a hastily made cobblestone pillar, and began the quick creation of a nether portal, balancing the buckets of lava with the waterfall, which turned the lava into obsidian. Soon he had his nether portal.

He ran over to one of the trees dotting the savannah and grabbed an acacia log. Setting it down next to the lava and his nether portal, he waited for it to catch fire so it would ignite the portal. In the meantime, he mined dirt blocks so he could traverse the Nether. After a few minutes, Iskall heard the distinct sound of a nether portal igniting. He ran over and quickly went through the portal.

Iskall was grateful he dug up some of the dirt blocks in the Overworld because a lava lake surrounded his portal. Looking down at the compass, he noticed that it now pointed directly ahead of him. He let out a huff. “Well, I might as well get started. This dirt bridge won’t build itself.”

Iskall liked his nether spawn. It was a nether waste, which did not spawn any powerful mobs in large quantities, but he was building towards a soulsand valley. There were outcroppings near the nether roof above him, where he could see mobs. Off in the distance, he heard a ghast’s cry. “Not the best nether spawn, but I suppose it will have to do.”

About fifty meters away were two ghasts, floating only just above the ground. Pulling back the bowstring and feeling the infinity arrow magically notch into place, Iskall let out a breath. He released the arrow, watched it land, and hit the ghast on the left, one-shotting it, disappearing in a puff of smoke.

The ghast on the right, now realizing an intruder, let out a loud shriek and charged up flames near its open maw before the flames condensed into a hurling ball of fire that was sent in Iskall’s direction. Feeling the heat approaching, Iskall dodged away and pulled back, releasing another arrow, felling the other beast. He placed down blocks of dirt and jumped across the blocks to avoid the soulsand, continuing onward.

Iskall continued on his journey for another fifteen minutes, killing a couple of stray endermen for their pearls before the compass began to shift dramatically. “Guess they must be nearby,” he muttered to himself. Shouts began to sound from the other side of the soul sand walls.

“Wait! Dream’s here!” One voice shouted. Another followed, and then a chorus of screams began before the sound of TNT rang through the warm and sticky nether air.

‘Dream? That name seems familiar for some reason.’ Iskall couldn’t quite place where he heard the name before but had to continue moving not to get left behind. “Guess they are closer than I thought,” Iskall commented before rushing to the area of the shouts and the explosion. There, a man with his back turned to Iskall, presumably facing the people who were shouting moments ago, wearing black pants, black combat boots, and a dark green sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, awaits before him. He laughed before disappearing through the portal.

The others, who appeared to be on the other side of a small ravine created from the explosions, have yet to take notice of Iskall, clamoring and trying to find a way to the nether portal. Iskall was about to follow the mystery man before he remembered the compass. Taking a look at the object showed him that Bad was not the individual that went through the portal because the symbols on the compass’s side were still blood-red with the arrow pointing to one of the three figures now scrambling into the portal. ‘Probably that Dream character that they were shouting about.’

Iskall snapped out of his reverie and made a blitz to the portal, putting the compass back in his inventory, favoring an enderpearl. He waited for the effects of the portal to take hold before launching the enderpearl in the first direction he heard sound from, which happened to only be a couple of dozen meters away.

Before the enderpearl dropped, Iskall pulled out his sword and prepared to block a sword swing that never came. He was instead pushed to the ground by the taller hooded man as he rushed past Iskall. At this moment, Iskall remembered he was dealing with other mercenaries – other hunters – not hired to bully some run-of-the-mill quarry on an otherwise peaceful server. This man was fighting for survival – for self-preservation.

In his effort to knock Iskall to the ground, the hooded man was pressed to adjust his footing, forcing him to look at Iskall, exclaiming exasperatedly, “who the fuck are you?!” Now that Iskall had a good look at the hooded man, he realized the man had a white mask where his face would otherwise be. The mask was a simple smiley face design with two dots for eyes and a singular upturned curved line for the mouth.

“Language!” One of the other individuals shouted. The group had caught up to Iskall and the masked man.

The masked man began to shift his body, his breath hitching as the others came closer. He grabbed an enderpearl and was preparing to throw it. “Wait!” Iskall shouted, jumping to his feet to stand in between the masked man and the group that Iskall assumed was a party of hunters. He knew his gear was better than the hunters’ gear, but they still outnumbered him three to one. He looked to the hunters. “What is your business with my client, Badboyhalo here?” He deduced that the masked man wasn’t Bad because the compass’s lettering was still red in the Nether after the masked man had already gone through the portal. Iskall just needed a distraction so that he could better understand the situation.

The tallest of the bunch, a being – who appeared to be a demon of some sort – with glowing white eyes and shadowy skin in black robes with deep red accents, dropped his stance. “What?” He asked, perplexed. This pause was the response he wanted. He needed the fighting and the chasing to stop, or he’d never get a word in edgewise.

Iskall dug in his stance, showing he was willing to fight, even as the other hunters started to widen the circle and surround the masked man. “Yes. Another one of my clients sent me to retrieve a Badboyhalo for fear that someone had kidnapped him. It seems that he wasn’t far off. After all, I find you all chasing my client here, him running for his life trying to escape from you lot.” Iskall moved a step closer to the demon.

The man returned his sword to his inventory and held his hands up in a sign of peace. “Wait! I’m Badboyhalo, not him!” The demon paused for a moment before his eyes went wide as his shoulders dropped. “Skeppy sent you? That muffinhead knows I’ll be fine on my own for a couple of days.”

The masked man – Dream – let out an airy, sorrowful laugh. “A couple of days? A couple of days! You think you’ve only been hunting me down for a couple of days?!” Dream pointed to the tall being. “You joined George and Sapnap almost two and half months ago! Don’t even get me started on how long I’ve been running from George! Can’t you guys just leave me alone?!” As Dream yelled, he slowly took steps backward, creating distance between him and the group.

Iskall reached out towards Dream, placing his sword in his inventory. “Now, Dream, that’s your name, right? Let’s just calm down and –”

“Calm down?” Dream interrupted. “I’ve been running for years, and you want me just to calm down?!”

“Yes, I do, Dream. Just think about this for a moment, okay? I’m here to take Bad back to Skeppy. If Bad is the type of man I have heard him to be, he’ll know when he’s been beaten and has to return home, right Bad.” Iskall looked over to Bad, glaring with his good eye.

“Umm, well, technically yes, but Dream still has to be brought to justice, doesn’t he?” Bad asked head cocked to the side.

“Well, that depends. What did Dream exactly do to warrant being hunted down by a group of skilled mercenaries?” Iskall eyed the group, looking from one person to the next before landing his sights on Dream, who was fidgeting with the sword in his hand.

“I –” Bad paused for a moment, his hand scratching the side of his head. “I don’t know, to be honest. I joined when Sapnap asked for my help, and I kept chasing him because he kept escaping from us,” Bad said, gesturing to a raven-haired man with a white bandana around his head.

Iskall then turned to Sapnap, whose brow was furrowed in thought. “Well? Do you know why you’re hunting this guy down?” Iskall asked him.

Sapnap looked up and shrugged his shoulders. “Uh, no? I mean, Dream was a pretty strong player in the competitive fighting tournaments, at least until his last fight with the reigning Champion. I just figured George had his reasons for why we were chasing the rising star on the competitive fighting scene.”

That’s why the name sounded so familiar. He did remember hearing from various casino patrons about the new fighting superstar, discussing the betting pools surrounding his ascent to fame. He hadn’t paid enough attention to care much about the details, but that would explain how Dream could stave off these trained hunters for months.

Of course, that left the one man who hadn’t spoken since Iskall first interfered in their chase – the apparent provoker of this whole chase. George gave off a familiar energy, but Iskall couldn’t quite place it.

George was of average height, only an inch or two shorter than Iskall, with a mop of brown hair topping his head. He wore a white shirt under an open light blue short-sleeved jacket, black pants, black boots, and had black fingerless gloves on his hands. On his shirt was a red rectangle with another white rectangle inside of it with a red number “404” printed in the space. George also had a pair of white-rimmed sunglasses blocking his eyes.

Iskall grew tired of this hot potato blame game and eyed an unarmed George who sauntered past Iskall and stood in front of a defensive standing Dream. Dream’s hand gripped what Iskall assumed was his ender pearl. “George,” Sapnap slowly asked. “You always said you were going to eventually tell us why we were chasing Dream when we had some downtime to go through it. Well, we’ve got that downtime now, George! Mind explaining why we’ve been hopping worlds for the last few months?”

George slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder at Sapnap, pausing before turning towards Dream. “So,” George drawled. “You’re going by Dream now?”

Dream tilted his head and pursed his lips as he stared down at the shorter man. “Yeah,” he shakily breathed in. “I go by Dream now.”

George grabbed his sunglasses and rested them atop his hair before reaching out with his hand. “Well, Dream,” George started, emphasizing the name with evident distaste, “it seems that we started out on the wrong foot. Let’s start again. My name is Georgenotfound, but you can call me George. These are my friends, Sapnap and Badboyhalo.”

Dream’s mouth parted slightly before an apprehensive grin graced it. He reached for George’s outstretched hand. “Hey, I’m Dream. It’s nice to finally meet you all for definitely the first time.” Dream let out a chuckle before Sapnap made an indignant sound.

“What? So that’s it? We’re just going to pretend that we didn’t spend weeks trying to hunt down a man that we are just going to let go now? And you still haven’t even told us why we were chasing him in the first place!” Bad also appeared in a state of similar confusion, but before Sapnap could continue, George interrupted.

“It doesn’t really matter anymore, now does it. What’s in the past is in the past, and no amount of complaining will get it back. I guess I should’ve learned my lesson the first time around about appreciating what I have instead of wanting something that doesn’t exist anymore. I suppose it took some outside nearly suicidal man to make me stop and realize it.” George looked from the sputtering Sapnap over to the just as confused Iskall. “I’m sorry, Mr. umm.”

“Iskall,” he supplied.

“Yes, Iskall. I’m sorry that you had to get involved in our little dispute. I appreciate you giving us a moment to calm down and talk out our problem. I assume Skeppy probably offered you the stars to get Bad back, and we will gladly pay it in full.”

Iskall stood in stunned silence for a beat and then two more. “I, yes. Skeppy promised something that I don’t think you’d be able to give me, that being my sight from my missing eye.”

George looked past Iskall to the other hunters. “You guys think Sam could make a cybernetic eye and have Ponk install it?”

Bad grabbed his chin in thought. “Yeah, Sam could probably come up with something. We would just need to bring him to wherever the others decided to settle so that he recovers well. Speaking of which, we should probably check in with Skeppy to see if they contacted him on where they ended up. I know Callahan was having trouble setting up a whitelist, but I haven’t heard from him since I joined up with you guys.”

Sapnap decided to take that moment to speak his mind once more. “Well, that’s all fine and dandy, but are we seriously considering just letting Dream go? You know, the man we’ve been chasing for weeks now?”

George let out a huff and stared down Sapnap. “Do you have a reason for why we should keep chasing Dream, Sapnap? Or is the only reason you kept chasing him is because I asked you to? I settled my differences with him. It doesn’t look like Bad wants to keep fighting, considering Skeppy wants him back. If you still have a bone to pick with him, go right ahead, but I’ve decided to bury the hatchet and move on. I think you should do the same.”

The fire seemed to die out from Sapnap’s expression, his shoulders falling just as quickly as his face. He folded his arms and kicked the dirt before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Fine,” the man grumbled, pouting.

Dream meekly began to speak. “I could probably help Callahan set up the whitelist process. I learned quite a bit of coding from T–” he cut himself off with a forced cough. “From an old friend. Yeah. Yeah, it’s the least I could do.”

Everyone, even George, who had primarily been emotionless in the entire exchange, had varying levels of shock on their faces. Sapnap went to speak, but Bad interrupted him with a glare. “That would be wonderful! It could give us all a bit of time to calm down and work things out. Maybe we could even become good friends,” Bad spoke with a genuine smile.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” Dream replied with a slight grin. “As long as you’re willing to have me, that is,” he added, looking at George.

George paused for a moment before he too smiled and grasped Dream’s shoulder. “Welcome to the team, Dream. I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

Iskall couldn’t help but wonder why these two seemed to know more than they were letting on and why both seemed to stand out from the group. He had been so deep in thought and paid such little attention that he hadn’t realized when they were already back on the Hypixel server, Skeppy already lecturing the demon he was sent to retrieve. It shouldn’t have been possible for the group to have reentered the server; Hypixel’s portals were closed, after all. How they got back to Hypixel, he’d never know.

Within a few hours, Xisuma could feel the energy of the Greyskins change entirely. They kept checking in on him, pushing him to give the command to them to summon his brother, or at the least, his brother’s player tag, so that they could summon him themselves. Those puppets of his former friends, trying to use every bit of leverage they could to force his hand, were mere mockeries of his true friends. A dark evil seeped from every word, every smile, and every blow they inflicted upon him. At one point, they knocked him out and moved him to a new cell. “Cell” was a strong word for this new prison. The cell was so big that inside it was part of a modern-styled house of which Xisuma could freely move around. It looked pleasant enough, and perhaps it would have been had he been left alone from the onslaught he received from his former friends. Nothing would make him budge in his resolve.

His brother wasn’t an evil person, despite the word being part of his name. Misguided? From the eyes of the Hermits, sure. They didn’t know the whole story – at least, that’s what his brother always told Xisuma. His brother, Evil X, kept his cards close to his chest.

Xisuma’s memory was not the best. He knew many Hermits liked to keep their pasts to themselves, many claiming that they did not remember much before Hermitcraft or sometimes before they left their home dimensions. Most of the time, the Hermits would eventually reveal their pasts, filled often with woes and regret. The Hermits would much rather leave those memories alone and never deal with them ever again. Xisuma vaguely recalled Generik offhandedly remarking that that near hermetic silence was what ironically attracted the Hermits to one another. In hindsight, that silence that led to distrust was probably the most significant factor in the early group’s falling out.

Xisuma’s memory, however, was limited. Unlike the others, who would eventually open up about their pasts to one another, Xisuma never had that luxury. He remembered awakening in the End, alone, on one of the many floating islands. He only possessed a vague understanding that this voided wasteland was not where he belonged, and that there was more beyond the tiny island on which he awoke.

Xisuma remembered walking for some time, having a sense that he should avoid eye contact with the tall black beings that aimlessly walked about the floating island. He remembered eating the crunchy purple fruit that grew from the coarse yellow endstone as he walked across the island. It teleported him a short distance upon its consumption, the full-bodied, bittersweet flavor popping in his mouth often distracting him from the awkward feeling of teleportation.

Eventually, he came across what he learned later to be an End City. Inside was where he first remembered meeting his “brother.” He was nimbly dodging the shulker projectiles to get the loot located in the upper area’s chests, claiming that Xisuma ought to do the same before he took all of the good items. When Evil X asked Xisuma for his name, he remembered pausing for a moment, not knowing how to answer.

“So, what’s your name then, brother?” the man asked, voice deeper courtesy of the voice changer in his helmet, the helmet and combat suit a near replica of Xisuma’s own, only red instead of green.

“My name?”

“Yes, your name. What should I call you? I know what I’d call you, but I’d like to hear your take first.” The man rifled through another loot chest, throwing away some beetroot seeds before tossing a round item to the ground. “A music disc? There aren’t even any diamonds in here to make a jukebox to play the blasted thing. How is this even here?” He scoffed.

Xisuma grabbed the music disc off the ground, feeling the grooved surface of the tracks. He wiped off the dust coating the black centerpiece label, where gold letters wrapped around the center hole read, ‘Stal.’ “A music disc?” Xisuma repeated.

“Yes, a music disc. What is it to you? I asked you a question, and I’m getting tired of your lack of a response,” his brother impatiently repeated.

“Csid cisum a,” he said, still staring at the disc.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s ‘a music disc’ backwards. I think it has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Eh? It’s a bit of a mouthful,” his brother groaned. “How about just ‘Cisuma’? A bit easier to pronounce. And, hey, I’ve always liked the letter ‘X,’ so what if we just threw an ‘X’ at the beginning instead of the ‘C’? It provides that flair without all the extra syllables.”

“Hmm. Yes, I think I like that. Well then, I’m Xisuma, and it’s nice to meet you.” He put the music disc in his inventory before reaching out his hand to his brother.

The man laughed, reaching for Xisuma’s hand. “Well, I reckon I’m the cooler version of you, brother, and I have always equated being evil with being cool, so you can call me Evil Xisuma, or Evil X for short.”

Xisuma remembered not being so happy that his ‘brother’ just reused his name. After all, his name had meaning to him. He didn’t have anything to base it on, but Xisuma believed he loved music when he felt that disc, and he chose his name appropriately. Hell, he still has that same music disc somewhere in his enderchest alongside the other items he brought from season to season. Xisuma didn’t put up a fight with Evil X because Evil X did come up with shortening it to an appropriate pronunciation. Xisuma only learned later in their travels, shortly before Generik offered them each a place amongst the Hermits, that Evil X didn’t remember his name either. Evil X knew of events that led to Xisuma’s memory loss; however, it was something he refused to tell Xisuma. The fight that followed was the reason why Evil X didn’t join the Hermits. Evil X wanted to keep that information secret and refused every attempt Xisuma made to pry it open, eventually culminating in their split.

Perhaps Evil X wanted to destroy the server to try and give Xisuma a reason to hate him so Xisuma would forget about the original reason they fought. Xisuma would never forget, though. He was reminded of his forgotten memories every time a Hermit recalled their own. Sometimes the stories would be around a campfire with many listening ears and watchful eyes, like Iskall’s ‘bad’ diamond eye experience. Other times it would just be Xisuma and the other Hermit, talking intently over a cup of tea, as he and Biffa had often done. Now the tea grew cold on the stone floor in front of him.

Perhaps, as Joe said, Evil X just wanted to be loved. Sure, Xisuma was hurt when his friends forced him to choose between them and his brother, but he was far more distraught at what the ban meant for their relationship going forward. Evil X wanted to be hated so he could push Xisuma away and never have to reveal what he knew. That had to be the reason Xisuma hated banning his brother. At least, that’s what Xisuma kept telling himself so he could try and get even just an ounce of sleep each night.

Xisuma knew that he and his brother’s relationship was broken beyond repair long before the ban, and nothing would ever fix that. Besides Evil X, nothing would allow Xisuma to understand what happened before he woke up in the End. Nothing would mend his relationship with his brother, and Xisuma made that clear when he banned Evil X months before. Maybe that was why he was so upset. He loved his brother so much, but that minor fracture became a divide too large ever to cross.

The two of them roamed the End for years, pillaging the cities and venturing deeper in the End. One day they realized that there was a massive swatch of void extending thousands of blocks around. They bickered while going around the expanse before Xisuma demanded to know how he had forgotten his memory. The energy seemed to fade from Evil X before he looked out into the void, fearful eyes searching for something that didn’t exist. That despondent look only made Xisuma angrier, but he put it aside for the project that lay before them.

They built a bridge across the endless expanse before finding an island in the center, obsidian spires protruding towards the heavens with a mighty dragon defending it. They defeated the dragon and went through a portal that opened in the middle of the island, falling into a body of water, right next to where GenerikB had been fishing. Genny offered them a place to stay with friends to care about, but Evil X didn’t even give it a chance. He demanded to leave, and Genny showed him the door. Genny never mentioned Evil X again after he left, finding no reason to alert other Hermits to the potential of a second new Hermit. Xisuma didn’t see him for nearly three years after that. If it weren’t for the few pictures he saved in his helmet, he would’ve thought that Evil X was just a hallucination, meant to reassure Xisuma that he couldn’t be alone in the lonely End’s expanse. When Evil X did return, the first person he confided in was Joe. Joe could convince him that Evil X wasn’t just some made-up evil person, but a person who was lashing out at an unforgiving world.

Xisuma regretted ever pushing Evil X away. Xisuma regretted watching his brother slip away from the friendship they once had. Xisuma regretted the sinking feeling that he may only care about Evil X for what he could provide to Xisuma. Xisuma regretted it all.

But when Iskall’s death message flashed across his helmet’s screen, and someone who was not Iskall strolled into his cell, gloating over Xisuma’s loss of another friend, Xisuma knew he’d regret again.

“Hayden!” Xisuma shouted over Iskall’s mocking tone. “Hayden! I have a deal to propose to you!”

Iskall’s face fell, and his taunts ceased. Xisuma didn’t know why he thought his shouts would work, but it did the trick as the Doctor appeared in his cell.

“Ahh. Xisuma. Have you finally come to your senses? Or do I need to make an example of another one of your friends?” Biffa’s face triumphantly smiled the same way a predator looked at its caught prey.

Xisuma hated what he was about to do. With his resolve crushed and his hope slim, he just had to pray that Evil X would look through the Doctor’s intentions. Maybe Evil X would be the one to come to his senses and help Xisuma again. He could only hope.

“I suppose you could say that. I am willing to bring my brother here under one condition: no more of my friends turn into them,” Xisuma said, pointing at Iskall. “No more of my friends become mindless puppets. I want you-” Xisuma stopped himself. The reaction he got was what he wanted. He wanted the Doctor to change into that maniacal ‘master’ of his once more. The Doctor’s glowing blue eyes were now replaced with those pitch-black eyes, absorbing the room’s light. They were mesmerizing, really, almost like looking into the void of the End.

“Speak again, mortal. I don’t believe I heard your demand clearly, and my patience is waning,” the maniac spoke, body poised and ready to rip apart Xisuma if he so much as breathed incorrectly.

Xisuma took a slow breath in to calm his rising nerves. “I will bring my brother here so long as no more of my friends become these evil versions of themselves, becoming monsters of evil-” Xisuma was cut off.

“Agents. Agents of darkness.”

Xisuma paused for a moment. “Erm, yes, agents of darkness, I suppose.”

The entity mulled over Xisuma’s proposition for a moment before a sickening smile broke out on Biffa’s face. “If that is your demand, I can promise you my end of the bargain shall be satisfied as best as I can provide it. The last of your friends will be spared that fate. Do we have a deal?” The Doctor’s hand was reached out to Xisuma.

“Deal,” Xisuma said, grasping Biffa’s hand, the shadows seemingly dancing across Biffa’s arm before dissipating at where they met.

“Evil Xisuma, no spaces and a capital letter at the start of each part. He’ll get the notice that he had been unbanned and rush to enter the server instantly.”

Xisuma couldn’t help but regret his decision the moment his words left his mouth and a notification appeared across his visor.

EvilXisuma joined the game.

Chapter Text

Chapter XVI – The Diamond Knight

“It has been six hours, Mumbo! I can call our ship over to pick us up in minutes. How much longer are you willing to wait until you get it that he isn’t going to show up?!” Ranboo hollered, impatiently seething. “We haven’t even seen one of his goons walk through the hallway!” The hallway was impossibly long and tall for the building’s shape, and yet Mumbo and Ranboo had not yet seen a single person grace its corridor in the hours since they first arrived. They had long since changed their attire into suits, preparing for the upcoming meeting.

Mumbo continued to inspect the poppy the goon gave him, turning it over in his hand for the thousandth time, studying each of its red petals. He was mesmerized by its simplistic beauty. The poppy’s stunning red hue was reminiscent of the blood the soldiers shed during the War – its red starkly contrasted its black beady center, redolent of the bullets that once pierced the soldiers. Mumbo knew all about poppies. He had memories of his mother tending to the fields surrounding his home and his father collecting a bouquet of poppies to give to his mother whenever she fell ill or when his father spent too long fiddling with his robots. Yet, the red on this particular poppy shone so brightly that it almost felt as if it radiated off the flower, burning with the essence of a star.

“Mumbo! Are you even listening to me?” Ranboo exasperatedly shouted.

“Yes, I’m listening to you.” He was not. He could not care less about Ranboo’s sour attitude. So what if he was taking his sweet time meeting them? This was the Diamond Knight – the man who paid for Mumbo’s entire education at the most prestigious university in the world, the myth who rarely ever made a public appearance but was practically everywhere all of the time, the legend who single-handedly brought the Federation to the forefront of the galaxy. He was Mumbo’s hero, and Mumbo would wait as long as he had to so that he could meet him. Maybe he was a fool for that, but Mumbo didn’t care.

The Diamond Knight had spent decades hiding from the public eye, avoiding public life by sending some representative in his steed at any public event. And yet, he was one of the most powerful men on the planet, if not the whole galaxy, just hiding away like a monk. The Diamond Knight built up the Earth after the War and helped propel its people across the galaxy, building this fortress of an office building that Mumbo and Ranboo were now waiting in. He had to meet this reclusive juggernaut – this god in his very own Olympus.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like you are, Mumbo,” Ranboo groaned. “I get we want our payment, and I understand you want to meet Mr. Knight. Honestly, I get it. But can’t we just – I don’t know – wander around the building a bit and find someone who can just let him know that we decided to find a place to stay until we can meet at a better time? We have the cube, but it’s not like we will get very far. I can’t teleport us all the way to our ship, so we’re not going to get off-world. Surely, he wouldn’t mind us departing for a short while, right?” Ranboo had teleported around the room as he spoke, making it difficult to follow his short rant, but Mumbo supposed it gave Ranboo something else to do besides sit around. From what Mumbo gathered, Galactics weren’t used to standing still for as long or as often as Ranboo usually did. Hence, it was reasonable for Ranboo to want to teleport around, especially after being holed up outside the Diamond Knight’s personal office for a few hours.

Mumbo let out a soft sigh, placing the poppy in the breast pocket of his suit jacket. “I guess you’re not wrong. It has been a while now. How about we wait until five. If he’s not here by then, we can teleport out.” Five o’clock was still thirty minutes away. It wasn’t quite what Ranboo had been fishing for, but it would at least give him an expectation – a goal. At least, that’s what Mumbo hoped Ranboo would think of his offer.

Ranboo inhaled, tilting his head backward before releasing a small groan. “Fine. Five o’clock, but don’t be disappointed when he doesn’t show.” Ranboo marched over and sat down on one of the benches, which were just what appeared to be repurposed pews. They lined the long hallway with bookshelves breaking up what would otherwise be a solid line of pews along the walls. Mumbo decided to inspect the bookshelf nearest to Ranboo and find something besides the poppy to pass his time.

Mumbo sifted through the books that partially filled the bookshelf. Many of the books appeared brand new. There were a handful of encyclopedias and several books written by the Diamond Knight himself, but a single leather-bound book stood out to Mumbo. The book lay beneath a couple of other books, its face against the shelf’s floor while other books stood atop it. Moving the other books, Mumbo grabbed the leather-bound book and sat in the pew.

The book’s leather felt dry and rugged in his hands – its binding was stiff and unyielding in his firm grasp. He slowly cracked open the book, hearing as the old leather crinkled to give way to his ministrations as if it hadn’t been opened since it was first written. Although the book’s cover was blank, the first page – and every other page for that matter – was hand-written. The first page was written with black ink, and although they were both in similar styles, one was clearly newer and more refined in its scrawl than the other, with more faded text. The writing reads together as The Founding of Forge Labs, the latter two words appearing in lighter, faded black ink and the former three appearing in darker but still somewhat faded black ink. Below what appeared to be the book’s title, also in faded black scrawl, was a simple “— Sean, 2–,” which Mumbo assumed to be the book’s author and the year the book was initially written.

Mumbo vaguely recalled hearing from someone long ago that Forge Labs had been a division within Diamond Enterprises in its earlier days. However, Mumbo couldn’t quite remember how that association worked. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that inclined him to find out more about how the companies were connected. He supposed that this book may at least shed some more light on Diamond Enterprises’ beginnings. Assuming that what Mumbo had heard was true, this book would coincide with the time following the end of the NATO–Soviet War and the rebuilding that allowed Diamond Enterprises to reach its great beginning.

Mumbo went to turn the page to begin reading the book but was stopped by the low groan of the doors that separated Mumbo and Ranboo from the Diamond Knight’s office. The doors were massive and were made of what appeared to be solid black stone, etched with opulent golden designs. The doors contrasted beautifully with the stone walls and the quartz pillars lining the hall.

As the doors slowly opened, the somewhat cool hallway became significantly warmer, not enough to be unbearable, but certainly uncomfortable considering Mumbo’s attire. A dry, scrappy, yet loud and commanding voice boomed from the now open room, “I know you both are still there. You may enter now.” Mumbo closed the book, placing it inside his suit jacket’s pocket.

Standing up, Mumbo looked over to Ranboo, whose lips were tightly pursed shut and whose shoulders were hunched upwards. “Ranboo? Are you okay? Did the voice scare you?” Mumbo spoke, smirking, trying to make light of the situation.

Ranboo turned his head and stared Mumbo down before relaxing again. “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. I don’t know what it is, but something is telling me that this guy is bad news, all right?”

Mumbo smiled as Ranboo rose and began walking with Mumbo towards the now-open doors. “You worry too much, Ranboo. If they wanted to hurt us, they had every opportunity to do so over the last few hours.” Ranboo hummed in approval.

Once again, this building baffled Mumbo. The Diamond Knight’s office was massive, with a giant window in the back that ran from the floor to the ceiling and numerous doors along the side walls. But sitting in the middle of the room, perhaps only ten feet from the window, was a modestly sized, but indeed opulent, desk. The leather chair behind the desk was turned away from Mumbo and Ranboo, with whom Mumbo assumed must be the Diamond Knight. There were also two smaller chairs on the side of the desk closest to Mumbo and Ranboo.

“Ahh, welcome, welcome! Come in! I am so glad you were able to pay me a visit. Thank you for waiting. I had some – well, let’s just call them minor inconveniences, shall we? Yes, I had to take care of some minor inconveniences before our meeting.” The Diamond Knight was still faced away from the now approaching Mumbo and Ranboo. Mumbo couldn’t see around the chair because the chair’s back was quite tall, taller than the Diamond Knight clearly sat. It was also light outside, so Mumbo could not see the Diamond Knight’s reflection in the window.

Mumbo’s attention was focused on that chair, tunneling in on the person responsible for not only Mumbo’s own success but the success of the entire Federation. Finally, as Mumbo and Ranboo were nearly to the Diamond Knight’s desk – a massive, ornate oak construct – the Diamond Knight rose to his feet, turning around and facing Mumbo and Ranboo.

Mumbo was no longer a very religious man. Mumbo used to be at least somewhat religious back before he faked his death, but – except for a brief stint where he lived in an abandoned church – he hasn’t stepped foot into a church since then. However, the face that greeted Mumbo would have shaken any priest or prophet. The face that stared back at him looked so highly similar to that of a demon’s – a devil’s – just like how old religious art depicted Satan. He had bright red skin, short black hair, and two light gray ram horns crowning his head. His eyes were nearly pure white with only the faintest red as a pupil. His eyes were practically glowing. He wore an almost identical suit to the ones Mumbo and Ranboo wore – jet black with a white shirt and a red tie.

Ranboo shook the Diamond Knight’s hand, but Mumbo was frozen in place, still some ten feet away from the desk. “Come on, Mumbo, staring is rude,” Ranboo quipped with a light laugh.

“I – I’m sorry. It’s just –” Mumbo was cut off.

“It’s just the fact that I look like a devil?” The Diamond Knight supplied.

“I mean, yeah!” Mumbo exasperatedly responded. “What else am I supposed to think? You are practically the man who propelled the Federation to its current status – you were my idol! It just doesn’t make sense to me. I’ve seen pictures of you, and you never looked like this, so what am I supposed to think?”

The Diamond Knight laughed a hardy, resounding laugh. “I get that a lot when people see me like this. I’ve met your dimension’s devil once, and I hope never to meet him again. I promise you that I am not the malevolent being that he is.” He laughed again, this time coughing as his laughter petered out.

“That doesn’t really help my fears here, sir. You say you’ve met the devil, but you are looking just like him here! Why shouldn’t Ranboo and I just leave before you or your goons can stop us?”

The Diamond Knight raised an eyebrow and gave a slight smirk. “I can’t promise you that I’m perfect. To have gone through all that I’ve gone through, you must be underhanded sometimes. As for the looks, we could call it a blessing, a curse, or perhaps just a perk of the job. I can control my form, but it takes energy – energy I don’t have to spare. If you can’t tell, I’m not from this realm. No, I’m not your realm’s devil; this just happens to be my natural form, or rather the form I can keep that uses the least amount of energy. I’ve been away from my own realm – banished, forced out by my –” the Diamond Knight halted his speech, coughing awkwardly. “Well, the specifics are unnecessary. It has been many years, and I grow weaker with each passing year away from my home realm. I have been trying to return to my own realm for nearly a century, but a new setback has emerged each time I’ve come close. I’ve tried to make the most of my situation and help humanity the best I can, but even if I go back to my own universe, there’s no guarantee I won’t be defeated and have to start all over again, or perhaps worse – killed.” The Diamond Knight looked solemn, and he seemed to stare off in the distance at something that wasn’t quite there.

“Nevertheless, I have to try. Maybe I can talk some sense into her.” The Diamond Knight pinched the bridge of his nose before looking back to Mumbo. I’ve been keeping a close eye on you for a long time, Mumbo, or should I say, Michael. Your little stunt some years ago made me nervous that you had unfortunately died before I could meet you in person, but it seems fate had other plans. When I found your services through Ranboo here, I knew that it was the perfect opportunity to meet –”

“And that we are so patiently waiting to be paid for,” Ranboo interjected.

The Diamond Knight’s soft smile turned into a slight scowl. “Yes, yes. Payment. I haven’t forgotten about your payment.” The edges of the Diamond Knight’s mouth turned upwards as his eyes began to dance with mirth. “You have to give the devil his due, though, which I believe is my Command Block.”

Mumbo’s brows furrowed. “Command Block? You keep saying that, but what is it?”

The Diamond Knight smiled a broad and toothy grin. “Well, it’s the object I had you both retrieve. It’s a cube that shrinks and grows depending on how you hold it. More importantly, however, it can bend the very fabric of reality if the input is correctly sequenced.” The Diamond Knight pulled out a communication device, tapped it a few times, then put it away. “There is your payment. Do you want me to show you how that Command Block works?”

Ranboo pulled out his own device and nodded his head to Mumbo. The payment went through. Mumbo was burned once on a payment – he wasn’t too apt to let it happen again, especially with someone who looked like the devil himself.

It’s not that Mumbo is disappointed, per se. This is the Diamond Knight, after all. It’s just that he supposed he wasn’t expecting someone who looked so similar to a devil. Mumbo pulled out the command block, now a small cube only the size of a baseball, and placed it into the Diamond Knight’s hand.

“Thank you,” the Diamond Knight grinned. “Now see how I slightly flex my palm –” the Command Block instantly grew larger to about a foot in all proportions. When Mumbo first grabbed the Command Block back on the Skeld, he hadn’t realized that it had shrunk so much until now. Mumbo could now see that the screen had a flashing bar. A digital keyboard manifested itself in front of the block towards the Dimond Knight. “– and the Command Block becomes its correct size once more. We can now manipulate the object to do whatever we desire, so long as we understand the input. For example, I would type in this input if I wanted to give you a poppy.” The Diamond Knight typed onto the digital keyboard ‘/give MumboJumbo deter:poppy 1.’ Instantly, Mumbo felt the weight of something enter his pocket. Reaching down, Mumbo pulled out of his pocket a fresh poppy.

Ranboo and Mumbo were in disbelief. “See, this is the ‘give’ command. It gives any person, using their world identifier – in your case Mumbo, it is ‘MumboJumbo’ without a space – any object or objects that the user specifies. The object listed is on the back half of the colon, with the front half as the realm’s describer. This realm is labeled ‘deter,’ whereas my home realm is labeled ‘minecraft.’ There are many different actions you can take with the Command Block, but the one I prefer most is the ‘give’ command because I have been able to use it to further my corporation’s ambitions and benefit humanity overall.”

“You have been able to supply humanity with redstone this way? This is revolutionary! How can we recreate this? We could advance all of civilization forward millennia ahead of its time. It’s absolutely a-” Mumbo was cut off by a seething Ranboo.

“Atrocious! That’s what this is! We retrieved this item for you because someone else had gotten a hold of it. You had it this entire time, and you chose to use this object to exploit the market, giving weapons of war to borderline psychopaths? You gave humanity the necessary weapons to wipe out nearly my entire species! You could have been feeding the hungry, providing shelter to the homeless! Instead, you exploit billions of lives for your own benefit! Why haven’t you provided the basics to the needy to save those on your planet before you used it to wipe out those on mine?” Ranboo’s face was contorted in rage, teeth grinding, and fists clenched. He slowly and menacingly made his way closer to the Diamond Knight with each sentence before ending up mere inches from the Diamond Knight’s face. “What do you have to say for yourself?” Ranboo’s voice was low and threatening.

“Well, if you wanted to be this intimate with me, you should at least take me out to dinner first,” the Diamond Knight said with a smirk and a glint of humor in his eye. Ranboo’s rage did not relent as tiny purple sparks began to flitter around Ranboo’s form. The Diamond Knight let out an exasperated laugh followed by an awkward cough. “But if you must know,” the Diamond Knight continued, “the Command Block takes a certain amount of energy to run, specifically, energy from the user. Depending on the command and the volume of work that the Command Block performs determines the amount of energy that the user must exert. As I mentioned earlier, I don’t have much energy to spare. I couldn’t waste energy producing unnecessary products for myself, let alone for the billions upon billions of individuals inhabiting this planet and its galaxy. That is also why I only had the Command Block produce a simple poppy. It is a low-effort material for the Command Block, and I only made one. Contrast that simple poppy with the energy-intensive redstone. There is no feasible way I would be alive if I used the Command Block to produce all the Federation’s and Diamond Enterprise’s redstone. Nearly all of the redstone in the Federation’s and Diamond Enterprise’s control is naturally occurring redstone. I only used the Command Block to produce some of the starting material to get Earth and my corporation off the ground. I need all the energy I can of my own to get back to my home realm. I don’t have any to spare to waste on other frivolities.”

Ranboo let out a huff of air before backing away from the Diamond Knight. “I suppose that makes some sense. It just strikes a nerve that my people had to suffer thanks to your supposed success.” Ranboo sighed, crossing his arms while squeezing shut his eyes. “It was terrible. I still hear their shrill screams, the burning of my people’s flesh. I was lucky because I was taken as a prisoner. I doubt they were going to keep me around for long, though. It’s just a tragedy that all of this could have been avoided without you having been here in the first place.” Ranboo’s eyes, now squinted, were once more locked on the Diamond Knight.

The Diamond Knight smiled, moving toward his desk. “Well, the past is in the past, and I don’t think I’ll be able to help much with your trauma. However, I think I can help you in a different way. You see, as I keep mentioning, I am trying to get back to my home realm and defeat my si-” the Diamond Knight coughed, cutting himself off as he began to dig through his desk drawer. “Defeat an old enemy that keeps sending me away. My home realm has an abundance of your species Ranboo, although they go under the name ‘Endermen’ there. It’s honestly a paradise there. The problem I have in returning is that she will seek me out to send me away, if not destroy me outright. My problem with defeating her is that I have no way of containing her, and she can regain her strength far faster than I can thanks to – well, thanks to the very nature of her being. I can defeat her, but she will just come back the next day stronger than she was before. Right now, I’d have the element of surprise to overwhelm her. The Command Block can transport us back to my home realm. I will need to attach it to a portal I have built, so it remains open long enough to go through. The amount of energy the Command Block will use will cause it to teleport somewhere else in the galaxy. I would rather not have to track it down again. However, to contain her is once more my main problem. Mumbo, I have been keeping an eye on you because I believe you may be able to assist me in creating a device to keep the enemy contained.”

Mumbo was taken aback by the amount of information he was given. The Command Block was just one piece of the Diamond Knight’s puzzle, and Mumbo quickly realized that he was another piece. “Well, if you can defeat her, why don’t you just kill her? I am more than glad to help since you have done so much for me, but wouldn’t killing her just be easier?”

The Diamond Knight frowned, holding a green glass orb that he grabbed off his desk. “No. No, Mumbo. I can’t kill her. It’s not her that’s doing it – it’s what’s controlling her. I don’t know how to fix her just yet, but I know that – given enough time – I can find a way. I just need to keep her trapped. A prison of sorts that will be unbreakable unless you have a certain way to unlock it.”

Mumbo went to speak, but he was interrupted by Ranboo. “What would be in it for us? We’ve got our money. We could leave now and be better off than we were before we entered.”

The Diamond Knight walked over to a pedestal that sat off to the side of his chair near his desk, placing the orb on top of it. The orb began to spin, and the hum of energy flowed through the room. “You would both get freedom – freedom to live your lives with a definite purpose, freedom from the oppressive Federation that threatens both of your existences, and freedom to simply be happy. And the icing on the cake for you, Ranboo, is that your people are still alive and well in my realm. You both can indeed leave and still be in a better position than when you walked through those doors but imagine the freedom you would have on the other side of that portal. I will win against her, and with your help, we can keep her locked up long enough to save her too.” The Diamond Knight held out his hands, his cards lain on the table with nothing left to hide.

“Mumbo, what do you think of all this?” Ranboo asked, his voice laced with hesitancy.

Mumbo closed his eyes, pursing his lips. He was effectively dead in this reality, faking his own death some time ago. He chose to take up his bounty hunter work to become stronger and wealthier to live out his days without worry. Now, he could start over. He wouldn’t be an outlaw in this new realm. He hadn’t seen his family since he faked his death, so it wouldn’t be like he was leaving them behind. Unlike the poppies that littered his childhood home, there wasn’t much of him he figured his family would remember past his already faked death.

Plans for an inescapable prison were already flying through his head, many complicated designs, but one stuck out like the shining orb resting on the Diamond Knight’s pedestal. A simple design that would utilize the energy of the individual inside to reinforce the container so the prisoner could never overwhelm the prison. A simple override switch that Mumbo could install could allow specified individuals direct access to deactivate the prison. This way, the Diamond Knight could release the prisoner once the prisoner was reformed. Yes, the ideas flowed through his mind, and the offer was intoxicating.

However, Mumbo would not want to leave his only ‘friend’ behind. It sounded like the Diamond Knight would take them both, but Mumbo still wanted that confirmation. “We would both be allowed to join you in your realm once the prison is complete?” Mumbo said, staring down the Diamond Knight.

“As long as you’re willing to. You are more than free to stay here, but I think you’ll find it far better there anyway.”

Mumbo looked to Ranboo, then back to the Diamond Knight. “I’m in if Ranboo is.”

Ranboo met Mumbo’s gaze and gave a short nod of agreement. “I’m in.”

“Then it’s settled. I will help physically when available and get you all the necessary materials. I already have a decently sized laboratory set up in the basement of the building that housed the last portal attempt. We will need to work on the portal and the trap simultaneously so we can go through the portal with it ready. Any questions?”

One question had always been on Mumbo’s mind since he first learned about the Diamond Knight. “Why do you call yourself the Diamond Knight anyway?”

Ranboo and the Diamond Knight looked at Mumbo, Ranboo with bafflement, and the Diamond Knight with a hint of amusement. The Diamond Knight began to lightly laugh. “I suppose I never did correct the first reporter that interviewed me. You are observant, Mumbo, in realizing that ‘Diamond Knight’ is more of a title than an actual name. Your people here call me ‘Diamond Knight.’ Others have called me ‘Hausemaster.’ Yet others have called me a god. I prefer the name that those closest to me have called me: Dianite.

Mumbo stared at the book in his hands. He knew he should’ve read it earlier, back when he first got it. Now he just re-reads it, again and again, hoping that there is some clue he’s missing – some piece to understand where everything went wrong. Maybe one day he’ll learn, but for now, he supposed he will just have to start over once more.

September 5, 2---

My mans! How’s it going? Look at this! This is the first entry in my newest hundred days journal! You know what I’m up to? Well, this time – this time I have a real exciting adventure! I grabbed my good friends, Robert and Kim, and we decided to undertake our first client as Forge Labs. Yeah, Forge Labs. Remember how the last time I said that we were going to start our own tactical group separate from the SCP Foundation? Well, we finally decided to do it and we have our first client too! And you’ll never believe who it is. The Diamond Knight. Yeah, that one.

Oh boy, we only met that mans a few hours ago and we are already getting to work. I thought, ‘Hey! This could really turn into something huge!’ and you know what, it does. Well, I guess I’m pretty sure it does. Otherwise, this journal probably would’ve been burned before you started reading it.

Hmm, why did I put that in there. Of course, you’re reading this. Ugh. Anyway, the Diamond Knight has us hunting down parts for his portal. Yeah, my mans, we are building a portal! And oh boy, I hope it doesn’t go as poorly as the one we went through with the SCP Foundation. That was a real mess. Heh. Anyway, supposedly, the pieces we need for the portal can be obtained by hunting down a few of the SCP’s.

If you’ve read any of my other journals, then you guys remember those SCP’s and how much of a pain they were to capture. I don’t know what ones we are going to have to get yet. I think Robert is taking care of that. Yeah, Robert – Robert is really good at researching stuff. I’m more of a doer. Head in first, ask questions later type of guy. And my mans, you know that I’m not that way. That’s where Kim comes in. He tends to balance Robert and me out quite a bit. He makes sure we don’t fall off the deep end.

I still don’t get why the Diamond Knight wants to go back there – back to his home ‘realm’ or whatever he calls it. My mans, he has it made here! He is rich, powerful, and can do whatever he wants. I guess it’s home to him, and hey, I get it. Home is where the heart is, or something. I don’t know. I guess his heart is there, or something.

I guess I just don’t get that. You guys know I never really had much of a home. My home became the SCP Foundation after he, Dr. [redacted], pulled me through that portal to this world and went in mine himself.

I still feel bad about that. Dr. [redacted] ended up going to what was practically a living hell. He was the lead scientist at the Foundation, whereas I was just a nobody who happened to be at the right place at the right time. Maybe I can convince the Diamond Knight to help me use his portal to find Dr. [redacted]. I’m sure his family misses him, or I guess technically just his wife. I met her. She was a lovely lady. It’s a shame what happened to their son.

Oops! I guess I went a bit away from the excitement that I had started with. I am honestly really excited for how this journey with Robert and Kim is going to turn out! So my mans, you should really stick around and keep reading! Kick back, relax, and maybe when you’re done reading, leave a comment in the review section saying, “Sean, I know you were off to a rough start, but I really liked what happened on day forty-two. You definitely didn’t set the project back two weeks all because you wanted to go on another adventure on the side. You did the right thing.”

Anyway, my mans, here’s to the first day of Through the Portal in One Hundred Days.

- Sean, of Forge Labs

Mumbo hated that first entry every time he read it. He hadn’t really been close with his parents, but he still loved them all the same. He didn’t realize his father had been a part of the SCP Foundation until he read the journal after helping Dianite. His family was always well taken care of – never wanting for anything. He supposed he now knew why. What angered him more, though, had been that Dianite had also funded the SCP Foundation. Dianite knew his father, and in all the time he worked with him, he never once told Mumbo about his father’s fate. Moreover, Dianite never mentioned to his mother that Mumbo was still alive. His mother grieved. Alone. Dianite was cruel, and Mumbo hated it.

Mumbo assumed Dianite could keep a close eye on him his whole life because Dianite knew his parents. Dianite was able to ensure that Mumbo received the best of the best education throughout his life. It’s just too bad that the entire thing had to be classified so Dianite’s actual goal could be reached.

Now, years later, Mumbo is still trying to get out of this new realm – 2b2t as he learned it was called – to get some real peace. Sure, people respawn here, but the pain of death still hurts. Respawning is still traumatic, especially when spawn campers mercilessly mow someone down at spawn. Mumbo hated those people and often had to clear them out himself to save some innocent at spawn.

“Mumbo,” the voice whined, “You said you would teach me how to use a bow three hours ago! Come on! I’m a big man, and it’s fuckin’ unfair that everyone else knows how to shoot a bow, and I don’t!”

Speaking of which, the young boy wearing a white and red tee-shirt and khakis with a mop of blond hair was the most recent example of an innocent that he had recently rescued.

“Tommy, you know how I feel about your cussing. And it’s shooting an arrow, not shooting a bow.” The boy, who insisted he was a ‘big man,’ was barely twelve years old, and he was a nightmare of a child, a little gremlin who begged for adventure but could hardly swing a diamond sword without tumbling over. Mumbo had only been taking care of the boy for a few months, but he had grown on Mumbo, replacing the hole left by Ranboo after their falling out when they first landed in 2b2t.

“I’m going to find Dianite one day, and I will kill him for bringing us here! He said it would be like a paradise, but this is no different than the realm we left behind, Mumbo!”

Mumbo hadn’t agreed to follow that plan, and Ranboo angrily left, vowing to kill the god. Mumbo didn’t care. Mumbo was now practically immortal, and it wasn’t like he had anything to really live for back in his home realm. He could make his own purpose in this new realm – 2b2t. Currently, that purpose was taking care of Tommy and teaching the young boy how to survive.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Shoot a bow, shoot an arrow – ooh! Or maybe instead, we can shoot a gun! I wanna learn how to shoot a gun, Mumbo! Just imagine me! Big man Tommy, shooting a gun! I’d make all the ladies swoon, don’t you think, Mumbo? They’d be all fuckin’ like, ‘look at that man! He looks so manly with that gun of his that he is shooting! I wish I could go on many dates with him!’ Aww, man! The ladies would love me, Mumbo!” The boy’s energy was as unmatched as his imagination. Mumbo doubted the women here would be impressed by Tommy’s aim or, rather, lack thereof. Mumbo also definitely didn’t want Tommy knowing Mumbo actually had a gun. He hid his gun away in his ender chest, alongside his power suit, the spoon from the old Doctor on the Skeld, and a few other knickknacks he kept hidden away. Soon, those items would include the Forge Labs journal when he chose to return it to its rightful place.

“Language, Tommy. I know you know how to use it,” Mumbo calmly spoke. “And you know that guns are not allowed in this realm.”

“Server,” the boy spoke, his energy dropping as he huffed out the word.

“What was that, Tommy?”

“This is a server. Guns aren’t allowed on this server. The realm is called ‘Minecraft’ or some shit. The server is called ‘2b2t.’ I’ve been to other servers within Minecraft that allowed guns, but I don’t remember no other realm.”

Mumbo forgot the difference. Mumbo overlooked that people usually traversed between the different servers. Except 2b2t was different. Dianite had locked it so people could come in, but they could never leave, not alive anyway. 2b2t was Dianite’s personal server even before Mumbo came. Dianite – or Hausemaster as he was called here – was its admin. But ever since Mumbo helped Dianite trap her here, no one could leave. Mumbo still didn’t fully understand why they had to lock her up. She was a ‘being of darkness’ or something like that, but when Mumbo saw her locked away in the cage he built, she sure didn’t seem like the evil monster Dianite made her out to be. No, she seemed scared and betrayed. Maybe Ranboo had been right.

“I guess you’re right. I’m sorry, Tommy.”

Tommy let out a gleeful laugh. “Yes! I am right, and you are wrong, bitch.”

Mumbo couldn’t help but laugh. Tommy’s energy was contagious, and he was glad the boy was dead chuffed to have been correct. Mumbo felt his communicator buzz in his pocket. He rarely got messages, turning off notifications for public chat and blocking many others.

Ranboo whispers to you: Spawn. Now.

It had been months since he last saw Ranboo, sometime shortly before the start of the Rusher War, since just before Mumbo started taking care of Tommy. It was only a happenstance meeting then. Ranboo had been asking other players questions about contraband that would help him hunt down Dianite, specifically Command Block contraband. He was trying to gather intel on tracking an old group of griefers that had initially gained access to various forms of contraband. However, from what Mumbo heard from other people, Ranboo was only concerned with the Command Block variety.

“Seriously?” Tommy groaned. “What is it this time? Does Fit want you to go fishing again? Oh, or maybe it’s another incursion? I bet you didn’t know I knew what those were, bitch! Ooh, or maybe it’s some ‘super-secret’ mission that you won’t take me on again because you think I’m just some fuckin’ weak child!” Tommy was shouting by the end of his outburst, his shoulders moving as he shakily breathed.

Mumbo grimaced. Tommy was right. This was super-secret. Whatever Ranboo had to discuss with Mumbo was bound to be dangerous. Furthermore, Tommy is a child. He’s definitely not weak and has seen more fights than most people Mumbo knew from his home realm. However, Tommy was weak compared to the brutes that inhabited this server. Mumbo couldn’t bear rescuing Tommy again, hearing those blood-curdling screams. No. Mumbo had to stop himself. Tommy would stay here. Mumbo’s base was well hidden, and it was safe.

Mumbo got down on one knee and grabbed Tommy’s shaking shoulders. “No, Tommy, you can’t come. I’m going to spawn to meet an old friend, and I don’t want you to get hurt. I promise you that when I get back – and I will sooner than you think – I will teach you how to shoot an arrow. Maybe we can even take an adventure to Wrath Outpost. How does that sound?” Mumbo offered a gentle smile.

Tommy’s eyes shifted to the right as he scowled. “Yeah, fine, whatever. I’ll just wait around for you to come back again, dickhead.”

That wasn’t quite the answer Mumbo had been hoping for, but at least he knew Tommy would be able to stay safe here. Mumbo had been slowly making progress at getting the young boy to open up and trust him, but there always seemed to be setbacks. Mumbo supposed he would have to try again later.

Mumbo hugged Tommy before packing his things, exiting through the hidden redstone door, and flying off. Mumbo didn’t notice the sets of eyes watching him as he flew off.

Mumbo had neither expected the push off of the obsidian platform nor the explosion that followed. He was stunned. Mumbo felt the ringing in his ears and the air rushing by him as he fell. He also began to feel a pain in his chest – a cold, squeezing sensation that constrained his chest. He realized that he was falling into the End’s void.

Mumbo lit a rocket and reoriented himself upwards, flying towards the main end island.

Iskall was gone. The Greyskins were going to know Mumbo’s position now. The Greyskins knew their traps well, and they would come for Mumbo. Mumbo had to run. Thankfully, he just had to make it to the exit portal at the island’s center.

Much to Mumbo’s chagrin, however, the portal was covered in a large pile of obsidian. ‘That is not good, that is not good at all!’ Mumbo thought as he pulled out his diamond pickaxe.

“Oh no, you don’t! You’re not going anywhere!” A voice sounding eerily like how his old friend Falsesymmetry said.

Mumbo looked briefly over his shoulder to see his once blonde friend charging toward him. Her green jacket and beige shorts now sporting a dim gray. ‘Oh, pants! This is really just pants! This is really not good!’

Mumbo knew he was only a block or so deep into the obscenely thick obsidian pile, so he lit off a rocket and began flying upwards. He switched to his sword and shield midflight, looking over his shoulder to see that False had gained considerable distance on him, now only about twenty feet behind. Mumbo pivoted in the air, raising his shield just in time to block False’s blow. He felt the force of False’s sword against his shield. He lifted his shield upwards, pushing False’s momentum above him so that she would lose her balance flying. However, False was no amateur fighter and reoriented herself rather quickly.

False was a skilled fighter, easily near the top of the server’s best. She was, in terms of overall utility, the best fighter. She was not the most skilled in form – that would be Wels. She was not the strongest in brute strength – that would be Biffa or Doc. She was not the cleverest in outwitting her opponent – that would be Grian or Etho, back when Etho was still on the server. However, it was False’s mentality that won her the day. False had the mentality to combine those three fields of fighting in which she would often be beaten to her advantage. She didn’t have to be the best in any of them; she just had to be a master in all three. Unfortunately for Mumbo, that masterful combination of False’s abilities seemed to only be amplified thanks to her turning into one of them.

Still flying, False charged at Mumbo and sliced her sword towards Mumbo’s side. He raised his shield just in time before the brutish blow landed. False was much stronger now, her impact much more vicious, sending Mumbo spiraling towards the end island. He tried to raise his shield to soften the blow, but he still hit the ground so hard that the force of the landing shattered it. ‘No, no, no, no! That was my only defense against her! I can’t survive without that!’

False landed gracefully a few blocks away while Mumbo was still fumbling with his sword, attempting to stand. “After your run-in with Grian, Cub, and Scar the other day, I thought you’d be a bit more of a challenge, but I guess you’re still just weak little Mumbo. I suppose Doc and Iskall really carried you back there, hmm? Any last words?” False said with a smirk. She looked at him like a cat with its prey under its claws.

Mumbo meekly raised his sword with his right hand, sifting through his inventory for anything he could use to escape. ‘I’ve got some food, some building blocks, the ‘Don’t Even Think About It’ shulker box, and an ender pearl? I don’t remember grabbing one before I left, but I’m not complaining. I must’ve picked up one that was left by an enderman slain before I arrived. If I can just get away, maybe I can grab the explosives from that shulker and use them to catch False by surprise.’ He did not know where that strategic thinking came from, but he wasn’t complaining.

“Ah? Some fight still left in you, huh? Well, let’s snuff that out then!” False rushed Mumbo. He brought his sword up to block False’s blow, but when she went in for the clash, she feinted him and punched him in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to drop his sword in a coughing fit.

“Aww, done so soon? Well, I guess that’s only expected from you.” False grabbed Mumbo by his tie and lifted him mere inches from her face, holding her sword under his chin. “Now the real question is should I kill you so you respawn back at the new base, or just drag you there myself?”

While False gloated, Mumbo grabbed his ender pearl so he could throw it away, but he had to get her to let go of him somehow, or else she would be teleported with him. Mumbo did the only logical thing he could think of to get her to let him go: he spat in her face. False immediately threw Mumbo backward and used her free hand to wipe the spit from her face.

“You disgusting pig! You spat in my face!” Mumbo launched his ender pearl towards the obsidian pile. He switched to the shulker, opened it, and removed a stack of end crystals before destroying the shulker once more with his pickaxe.

‘TNT takes too long to explode after ignition. End crystals, however, are extremely dangerous but blow up instantly. I’m just going to have to pray this works and that I don’t blow myself up in the process!’ Mumbo did not recall ever using end crystals while fighting, but their glassy texture in his hand felt almost natural to him as if he was meant to fight this way.

Mumbo grabbed his pickaxe and ran into the small hole he had dug before False arrived. He turned around to see False running his way, her teeth clenched in rage. “I will not let your behavior go unpunished!” False yelled, propelling herself forward while opening her elytra and lighting off a rocket. “Now die!”

Time seemed to slow down for Mumbo as he went to place the end crystal. His body moved for him, his left hand spawning the end crystal on the obsidian in front of him, outside his hole, as his right hand slammed his pickaxe into the glowing, floating crystal. False’s eyes shot wide open as she noticed what was happening far too late. She was unable to stop her fate.

Falsesymmetry was blown up by MumboJumbo

Mumbo sat down for a moment laughing to himself like a deranged lunatic. He couldn’t believe it! He actually did it! Mumbo had actually been able to defeat False! Granted, it wasn’t traditional fighting, but still! Mumbo was alive! He got to fight another day!

False’s armor and items had gone flying following the explosion. Mumbo grabbed the armor and False’s sword. False’s armor had protection on it, but it did not have blast protection. Combined with the fact that she was wearing elytra instead of a chest piece made for a deadly turn of events for the once blonde fighter. He was going to need a new weapon and armor. Iskall and Mumbo didn’t have diamond armor available because wearing diamond armor had been against the rules of the original game. They also figured they would get some loot at the end cities, but that was unfortunately not going to happen.

Mumbo turned back to the obsidian pile covering the end portal and began mining again. He had to escape from the End before more reinforcements arrived.

When Mumbo could finally see the enchanting view of the end portal, he couldn’t have been more relieved. Jumping through the portal, he opened his eyes to find himself once more in his bed at his bunker that he had been sharing with Doc and, until recently, Iskall.

“Mumbo? Mumbo! What happened over there?! Are you okay?!” Doc’s voice carried through the bunker. Doc wasn’t supposed to be back yet, either. Doc was supposed to be getting materials from Area 77. Doc’s form appeared as he opened the door to Mumbo’s room. “What happened to Iskall?”

The adrenaline began to wear off, and the energy Mumbo once had was starting to wane. “They trapped the End side of the end portal. Iskall pushed me off the spawn platform before I could comprehend what was happening. I couldn’t bring myself to go through one of the end gateways because I thought they might have been trapped too. The end portal exit was covered in obsidian. I couldn’t mine it fast enough. I – I fought False.” Mumbo was beginning to struggle with his breathing, heaving when he went to speak. He tried to calm his growing panic. “I couldn’t win with my sword. She, she is too good of a fighter, and I – I’m, well, I’m me. She beat me in only a few swings.”

Doc sat beside Mumbo on the bed and lent a comforting hand, firmly grasping Mumbo’s shoulder. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. You won. You’re safe.” Doc squeezed Mumbo’s shoulders, repeating those words to ground Mumbo and avoid a meltdown. However, Doc was not going to wait around for an explanation forever. He was nervous and not patient enough for that. “What did you do exactly to beat her?”

“End crystal,” Mumbo sputtered out. He didn’t want to explain the sound and sight of the explosion nor the familiarity Mumbo felt while performing the act. Mumbo especially didn’t want to entertain the thrill he felt when he won. His win certainly didn’t feel like a victory.

“An end crystal? You had enough time to make an end crystal?”

“No, some were in one of the shulkers I took from Sahara. I forgot to unload it from my inventory before Iskall and I left.”

“Oh.” Doc was still surprised Mumbo won against False, of all people. Moreover, Doc was having difficulty wrapping his mind around the fact that Mumbo knew how to do Crystal PVP. Doc even struggled to pull off the placement to avoid getting hurt, and Mumbo looked virtually unharmed, at least in terms of explosion damage. Hell, the only people Doc knew that were able to fight using end crystals were Grian and Etho. It wasn’t a typical fighting style outside of anarchy servers – it was too unreliable and carried a significant risk of self-damage. Doc knew Etho had spent some time on an anarchy server before they met, and Doc assumed Grian had at least dabbled in an anarchy server considering Grian’s nature, but Mumbo? No, Mumbo was just their friendly neighborhood redstoner who could hardly hold a sword the right way, let alone successfully survive on an anarchy server.

To Doc, Mumbo’s success against False was just beginner’s luck or some deity answering Mumbo’s prayers to escape False’s skilled rampage.

To Mumbo, he knew that he had done that before. The tact, the patience, the crystal’s placement, and the user’s positioning versus the intended target were just too natural – too perfect. Mumbo didn’t remember anything before that desert, that wasteland where the red sun hanging low in the sky never set, that insufferable hellscape where he just kept building redstone contraption after redstone contraption until the redstone became his very being.

There, he was insane. Here, he wasn’t. But that fight against False, the best fighter on the server, made him feel like he just might go insane.

Still, past all his doubts about his encounter with False, something about Doc’s presence here at the bunker was bothering Mumbo. The supply run was two-pronged: Iskall and Mumbo were to go to the End and get more shulker shells, while Doc was to go to Area 77 and gather the supplies he had stored there and begin taking inventory for the three – now two – in preparation of their trip through the time machine. However, Doc was here. When Iskall and Mumbo returned from the End, they would meet Doc at Area 77, not the bunker. And yet, Doc was here, not Area 77. They had all parted ways at the same time, so there was no reason for Doc to be at the bunker.

“Doc, why were you here? We said we would meet at Area 77 when we returned.”

Doc’s eye shifted its focus away from Mumbo as the corners of his lips dropped into a frown. “They overran it. With the Greyskin mansion destroyed, they had to hide out somewhere else. I guess Area 77 was their best opportunity. I snuck around and noticed that they kept flying in and out of the hangers. Too many Greyskins for it to not be their new base. At least we know where they are, and we can plan accordingly.” Doc paused in his speech as he leaned forward with his arms on his knees. Mumbo’s confidence kept deflating as Doc spoke, and then the realization of what the Greyskins’ presence at Area 77 meant for Mumbo’s and Doc’s mission. “Unfortunately, with them there, it will be significantly harder to get to the time machine.”

Doc looked over at Mumbo and straightened his posture to give Mumbo a pat on his back. “I think we will have to sneak in somehow because there is no way we can take them all, even with your newfound end crystal fighting ability. However, it would be best if we rest a bit. You look exhausted, Mumbo, but at least the red in your eyes seems to have gone down since you got back. Maybe when we’re better rested, we can plan to infiltrate Area 77, yeah?”

“Red in my eyes?” Mumbo had never had issues with dry eye before, even in the dry air of the End. He spent too much time in that endless desert for dry air to affect him in such ways.

“Yeah, your eyes, they were all red when you first came back? Hell, maybe I need a rest more than I thought. I was probably just seeing things,” Doc said with a laugh. “I guess the stress from sneaking around got to me. Don’t worry about what I said, Mumbo. Get some rest, and we’ll talk strategy when you wake up, okay?”

Mumbo agreed. Doc looked ragged, and Mumbo assumed he didn’t look much better. However, two notifications, one from Doc’s and Mumbo’s communicators, indicated that rest would have to come later.

EvilXisuma joined the game

Doc’s face fell. “Either Xisuma just unbanned Evil X, Evil X broke into the server, or the Greyskins figured out how to hack admin controls. In any way, we need to get to Evil X before they do.”

Mumbo nodded. “Since he was banned before, he should have entered at spawn, rather than wherever he was banned. We’re a lot closer to spawn than they are at Area 77. If we can make it fast enough, maybe we can diffuse the situation quickly and gain a valuable ally.” Mumbo didn’t know where that train of strategic thought was coming from, but he wasn’t complaining. Not now, at least.

“I like the way you think, Mumbo.”

With that, the two bolted for the exit to fly off to spawn in the hope that they could improve this dire situation.