Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was cold. Suffocatingly cold. The kind of cold that gripped your being until you were diluted into a shivering mess. And Philza Minecraft, annoyingly so, found himself victim to it. He huffed, wondering how he, an infamous villain, had fallen for such a stupid trap. Though, it didn't matter now, because as he was drawing his wings closer to himself, desperate for some warmth in the chilling prison, he heard steps approaching him.

Begrudgingly, Phil looked up and inhaled the icy air to compose himself. He’d be damned if he was caught off guard once again.

“Corvus,” an obnoxious voice greeted him, and Phil wished he could wipe the smugness off the bastard’s bearded face.

“Schlatt,” he snarled back, his teeth clenched in an attempt to keep them from chattering.

Schlatt had his hero suit on - which, weirdly enough, was an actual suit- and his eyes shone with a condescending glee from under his purple mask. He stood tall and proud, ram horns curled around his overgrown hair. Phil idly thought devil horns would fit him much better.

“It’s so kind of you to visit!” He spoke with the excitement of a child while peering at him through the thick bars that separated the two and Phil heard more footsteps heading in their direction.

Now, Phil wasn’t afraid. No, the great Philza Minecraft wasn’t afraid of anything. He was Corvus, people were afraid of him, not the other way around.

He was definitely afraid.

Schlatt continued to speak as the footsteps drew nearer, “You see, I have this… idea… I'd like to test.”

Phil raised an eyebrow, though it was covered by his villainous attire. His confusion only grew as he saw the owners of the approaching footsteps wearing lab coats instead of armor and carrying needles instead of swords. “What game are you playing at, Schlatt?”

“See, here's the thing about games,” He spoke with iciness, even colder than that of the room, and each word he pronounced was slow and calculated, as if it was pondered over and rehearsed many times, “There's always a ‘winner’ and a ‘loser.’ And I am so done with being the loser. From today on, I will be the winner.”

“Do you want to know why, Corvus? Because, I’ve realized something. I’m never going to beat you,” Schlatt laughed, it was humorless and hysterical as it echoed around the prison, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be beaten.”

Schlatt paused to stare at him. More specifically, to stare at his wings. Slightly mangled black feathers that came together to craft a set of grande wings that rested heavily on Phil’s back. His eyes bored into them as if he wished he could burn them away with his mind. (Knowing the hero, Phil assumed Schlatt probably did wish he could do that.)

“They say to fight fire with fire, and I think it's about time I start doing that,” The people with needles stopped next to Schlatt, waiting for his next words, “Although I may not be able to defeat you, you can defeat yourself.”

“What?" Confusion flooded Phil's mind and leaked into his words, "Are you gonna try and find some elytrians, an almost extinct origin, just to beat me? You’re out of your mind.”

“You underestimate me, Corvus. See, while you were off doing whatever it is you villains do, I was hard at work practicing the art of cloning, I’ve almost perfected it! I don’t need to find any elytrians when I have everything I need right here, in my imprisonment.”

“Cloning?” Phil raised an eyebrow, “You can't be serious.”

Schlatt narrowed his eyes, “You think I'm stupid?”

“I certainly don't think you're smart. You thinking you can ‘clone’ people just helps to prove my thoughts.”

“You're a fucking bastard, do you know that, Corvus?”

“Damn proud of it, too.”

Schlatt grit his teeth, sucked in a breath, as if to remind himself why he was here, and continued. “Whatever, you're gonna find out real soon how wrong you are.” He turned to the doctors (? Cloners? Phil wasn’t sure what to call them.), “Draw the blood needed.”

“Now Schlatt,” Phil tsked, backing up in his cell, “What's with the haste? I'm sure we could find other solutions.”

“What's wrong, Corvus? Afraid of a little needle?” Schlatt chuckled at his own joke and Phil rolled his eyes from behind his mask.

“No no, I just think you're in a rush, that’s all! Why don't we do this the old-fashioned way? Sword and sword, fist and fist, power and power! You don't need to complicate a fight.”

Schlatt stared blankly at him and sighed, “Release the anesthesia and then draw blood, I can't deal with him.”

“Oh, you motherfu-”

Phil’s voice cut off with a slight hissss of gas being released and anesthesia started to pool through his senses. Mind foggy, he struggled to resist the drug, instead falling victim to it. And as he fell to the floor, head hitting concrete, all Phil could think of was how goddamn cold it was.

Phil woke up blurry-eyed and sweating, a stark difference from earlier. The sun, bright as ever, was covered by a few large trees and the grass under him was soft and overgrown, the place he laid looked almost untouched - save the muddy footprints surrounding him. His head was pounding, his eyes on high alert, watching, waiting for any movement. He stood up when there was none, the memories of whatever the fuck just happened blended into some cruel milkshake and he grasped for straws wondering how the hell he got here - what even was here?

Phil sighed and pulled his mask off. It was similar to that of a plague doctor, his eyes completely covered and an elongated nose that casted the bottom part of his face into a shadow. The only difference it held was its colour - a dark green that matched the rest of his attire. He rubbed away the tiredness and blinked away the blurriness in his eyes before stretching his wings out.

He decided he’d rather deal with what happened in the comfort of his home and not some random, deserted forest in the middle of nowhere, so he took a few steps forward and began to fly upwards. The trees passed by quickly, bleeding into each other. Occasionally, a branch would hit him, but Phil did not stop. Not until he broke through the leaves and into the sun. Not until he accidentally flew into circles multiple times. Not until he passed over the broken down Pogtopia. Not until he made it to the capital of L’manburg.

Not until he made it home.

In the years that had passed, Phil found he could not recall the incident, no matter how hard he tried, it remained in the back of his mind far beyond his reach. He went MIA from crime scenes, no one hearing any news of Corvus, and he was pretty content with that.

Until five days ago.